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CICERO’S

TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS

I. ON THE CONTEMPT OF DEATH.

Il. ON BEARING PAIN.
Ill. ON GRIEF.
IV. ON THE PASSIONS.

Vy. IS VIRTUE SUFFICIENT FOR HAPPINESS ?

TRANSLATED
WITH

AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES.

By ANDREW P. PEABODY.

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
1886.

Copyright, 1886,
By AnpREw P. PEaABopy.

UnIvERSITY PRESS:
Joun Witson AND Son, CAMBRIDGE.

. Absurd vstiony Be § to the shadow of the cana 4

SYNOPSIS.

BOOK IL.

. Reasons for discussing philosophical subjects in Latin.

Poetry and art cultivated in Rome at a comparatively
late period.

Oratory cherished at an earlier time, Philosophy
neglected.

Plan of the Tusculan Disputations.

‘‘ Whether death is an evil,’’ proposed as the subject

_ for the first day.

The stories about the under-world, fictitious.

The dead not miserable, if they have ceased to be.

Death, on that supposition, is not an evil.

Different theories as to the nature of the soul, and as
to its fate when the body dies.

Aristotle’s fifth element, as constituting the soul.

. The theories of the soul inconsistent, and those con-

sistent, with its continued life.

. The belief of the ancients in immortality proved by com-

memorative rites and the honor paid to sepulchres.

. On this, as on every subject, the . common sense of

mankind is the law of nature.

. Instinctive consciousness of immortality.
. Men crave posthumous praise because they expect to

enjoy it.

+

Souls must tend upward when they leave the body.

iv

hee:

§ 18.
19.
20.

23.

21.

22.

24.
25.
26.
27.
28.

29.

Synopsis.

Reasons for so believing.

The soul’s flight traced.

Perception a function, not of the organs of sense, but
of the soul.

Absurdity of the philosophy which denies the con-
tinued existence of the soul.

No greater » difficulty it in conceiving of the soul’s life
‘when disembodied, than when in the body.

Plato’s argument for the soul’s future from its past
eternity.

Alleged reminiscences of a previous existence.
The powers of the soul proofs of its immortality.
Poetry, eloquence, and philosophy, God inspired, and
therefore tokens of a divine and immortal life. ©
A quotation from Cicero’s Consolatio, on the divine
origin of the soul.

The greatness of the soul attested by its capacity of
contemplating the u universe.

We know the soul in the same way in which we

know God. The death of Socrates.

What Socrates said in dying about the destiny of
souls.

. Life apart from the body the only true life.
2. Objections to immortality. The soul inherits the

“qualities of its parents, and therefore begins to be,

and whatever begins to be must cease to be. It is

also liable to disease, and therefore mortal.
Heredity denied. Disease belongs to the body, not

to the soul.

. If death is the end of life, it yet is no evil.
. Instances in which death would have been prefera-

ble to continued life.

. If death is the end of life, it involves no sense of want.
. Instances in which death has been faced with alacrity.
. The wise man will plan for eternity, whether he be

immortal or not.

OAD

Synopsis. v

. We have no just claim to continued life beyond

death.

. The contempt of death shown by Theramenes.

: Dying words of Socrates, quoted from the Phe Phaedo.
. Courage of the Spartans in near view of death. —
. Instances of the contempt of death on the part of

philosophers.
Superstitions about the suffering of the unburied
body after death.

. Various modes of disposing of dead bodies.
. Death in full prosperity to be desired rather than

ate en —

feared.

. Instances in which death has been conferred by the

gods as a pre-eminent benefit and blessing.

. Instances in which death has been sought and wel-

comed.

; The disposition i | in which death should be waited for

“and met.

BOOK IL

Grounds on which philosophy is distrusted or despised.

Desirableness of original writings in that department,
instead of depending on the Greeks.

Worthlessness of the Epicurean treatises that have
already appeared in the Latin tongue.

The true work of philosophy, though not always
wrought for philosophers themselves.

The thesis for discussion, — ‘* Pain is the greatest of
all evils.’’

Philosophers who have taken that ground.

Inconsistency of Epicurus.

Lamentation of Hercules on Mount Oeta, from the
Trachiniae of Sophocles.

vi

§ 9.
10.

11.
12.
138,

14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.

21.
22.
23.
24.

25.
26.
27.

go to

Synopsis.

The same, continued.

Lamentation of Prometheus on Mount Caucasus, from
Aeschylus.

Wrong notions propagated by the poets, whom Plato
therefore excludes from his ideal republic.

On this subject they have been too well seconded by
philosophers.

If disgrace is worse than pain, this consideration
alone puts pain in the background.

Pain subdued by courage and patience.

Resemblance and difference between labor and pain.

Power of endurance developed in military service.

Examples of endurance in athletes, hunters, gladiators.

Pain not so much in endurance as it seems in thought.

Epicurus, on pain.

Virtue, personified, treats pain as of no account when
compared with moral evil.

What self-government means.

Signal examples of brave endurance.

How far the sense of pain may have expression.

The strong manifestation of suffering unworthy of a
man.

Contrasted examples of this and its opposite.

The power of the sentiment of honor.

How the capacity of bearing pain is to be strengthened.

BOOK IIL

. Sources of error in home life and nurture.

In the poets and in public opinion.

Disorders of the soul more numerous and harmful
than those of the body.

Subject for discussion, —‘‘ The wise man is liable to
grief.”

Synopsis. vii

Distinction between ‘insanity ’’ and ‘‘ madness.’’

Grief to be not diminished, but extirpated.

The wise man is incapable of grief.

The virtues, considered separately and collectively,
are incompatible with grief.

The wise man is never angry.

Nor yet liable to pity, or to envy.

. False opinion, the cause of grief and of all other per-

turbations of mind. Perturbations classified.

. Groundlessness and frequent shamelessness of grief.
. Grief, the severest and least tolerable of the pertur-

bations.

. Premeditation on possible misfortune, a remedy for

grief.

. Opinion of Epicurus on this point.
. His remedy, that of calling the thoughts away from

grief, impossible.

. Imagined protest of one of the old philosophers against

the Epicurean doctrine as to grief.

. The theory of Epicurus as to pleasure, that it consists

wholly in the gratification of the senses.
This theory applied to the relief of sorrow under heavy
calamity.

. Epicurus contradicts himself.
. Cicero’s theory of pleasure, diametrically opposed to

that of Epicurus.

. The opinion of the Cyrenaic school, that grief owes

its intensity to its suddenness.

. How far this is true. Efficacy of example as giving

relief in sorrow.

. Examples cited.
. In some aspects the commonness and inevitableness

of grief enhance, instead of diminishing, its in-
tensity.

. Grief enhanced by the belief or feeling that it is under

certain circumstances fitting and right.

viii

§ 27

28.
29.
30.

31.

32.

33.
34.

10.

11.

Synopsis.

. Grief in many cases voluntarily assumed, in some,
voluntarily postponed.

There is then no actual necessity for it.

Reasons why the burden of grief is taken up.

That grief is removed by time while its cause re-
mains, shows that it is unnecessary.

The doctrine of the Peripatetics, that in this, as in
everything else, the right is the mean between two
extremes.

Modes of administering consolation.

Different modes are required by different persons.

Philosophy proffers an entire and absolute cure for

grief.

BOOK IV.

. The Pythagorean philosophy in Magna Graecia.

Vestiges of it in Roman history, institutions and cus-
toms.

The study of philosophy in Rome.

The subject of discussion, — “ Whether the wise man
is liable to perturbations of mind.”

The soul divided by the ancients into the part pos-
sessed of reason and that void of reason.

Perturbation defined as ‘* a commotion of mind con-
trary to reason.’’

Perturbations the consequence of false opinions.

Various forms of grief and of fear defined.

The phases of pleasure and of inordinate desire de-
fined.

Diseases and sicknesses of soul, produced by pertur-
bations.

The disgusts which are the opposites of these diseases
and sicknesses.

§ 12.

Synopsis. ix

Difference between occasional and habitual pertur-
bations.

Analogy between imperfections of the mind and
those of the body.

. Healthy bodies can be, healthy minds cannot be, at-

tacked by sickness or disease.

. Virtue, the only cure for the diseased mind.
. All the perturbations, whether painful or joyful, in

their nature and effect pernicious.

. Freedom from perturbations makes life happy. Ab-

surdity in this respect of the Peripatetic doctrine
of a mean between extremes.

Moderation in what is faulty is not only evil, but
dangerous.

. The grounds on which anger and inordinate desire

are commended as serviceable.

. The grounds on which grief in moderation is justified.
. Anger never necessary.

. Signal instances of courage without anger.

. Anger differs little from insanity.

Courage defined.

. Inordinate desire is never serviceable.

. Nor is emulation, detraction, or pity.

. Curative treatment of the perturbations.

. The best cure is the belief that they are vicious in

their very nature.

. The evil of inordinate desire is not diminished by

the worth of its object.

. Fear must be prevented or subdued by contempt for

its objects.

. All perturbations are matters of opinion, voluntary,

under our own control.

. Love, treated indulgently by the poets.
. By some philosophers, also.

. Platonic love unreal and absurd.

. The cure of love.

x

Synopsis.

§ 36. The sons of Atreus cited as instances of implacable

anger.

37. Perturbations of mind always the result of error of

belief or of judgment.

38. Therefore curable by philosophy.

BOOK V.

. Virtue, always superior to fortune.

Philosophy invoked as the sole safe guide and the
supreme joy of life.

Wisdom immeasurably older than its name, ‘‘ Philos-
ophy.’’

Origin of this name.

Subject of discussion, — “ Whether virtue is sufficient
for a happy life.’’

Virtue makes man happy by freeing him from pertur-
bations of every kind.

- Modes of discussion employed by the Stoics.

Does the necessary agency of virtue in producing hap-
piness imply that virtue is the only good ?

Theophrastus maintains that misfortunes and calami-
ties can make life miserable.

- Happiness implies the absence of evil, and thus the

non-reality of what are commonly called evils.

- Cicero explains his own apparent lack of self-con-

sistency.

. Socrates cited, and his words, as given by Plato,

quoted, as identifying happiness with virtue.
The soul designed and adapted for perfection.

- Happiness must of necessity be impregnable.

What is not right cannot be good.

. The objects, special or preferable, but not good, rec-

ognized by the Stoics.

§ 17.

Synopsis. xi

If vice produces misery, virtue, the opposite of vice,
must of necessity produce happiness, the opposite
of misery.

. If virtue will not produce the happiest life possible,

the worth of virtue is discredited.

. Caius Laelius contrasted with Cinna; Catulus, with

Marius.

. The wretchedness of Dionysius, of Syracuse.

. The story of Damocles.

. The story of Damon and Phintias.

. Dionysius and Archimedes compared.

. Happiness of the wise man in the study and contem-

plation of Nature.

. The fruits of wisdom in character.
. Epicurus, though illogically, maintains that the wise

man is always happy.

. Instances in which pain is cheerfully endured and

incurred.

. A happy life can stand the severest test of torture

and suffering.

. Reserve of the Peripatetics on the question at issue.
. Various opinions as to the supreme good.
. Yet, if self-consistent, the Peripatetics must admit

that the virtuous man alone is happy.

. Simple living praised. Examples of contentment

with little.

. Pleasures as classified by Epicurus. His rule for

estimating pleasures and pains.

. Temperance the means of the highest enjoyment, as

regards food.

. Simple fare and gluttony contrasted. Poverty no

evil.

. The lack of popularity is not to be dreaded.

Nor is unmerited exile an evil.

. Blindness does not interfere with a wise man’s hap-

piness. Cases in point.

xil Synopsis.

§ 39. The blindness of Diodotus, Asclepiades, Democritus,
Homer.

40. Deafness not destructive of happiness. Death a
refuge from accumulated physical privations or
sufferings.

41. The Stoics and Peripatetics substantially agreed as
to the relation of virtue to happiness.

INTRODUCTION.

In the sixty-second year of his age (B.c. 46),)
Cicero was overwhelmed by a series of public and
domestic, calamities. Julius Caesar, virtually sove-
reign of the Roman world, would have purchased
his adherence at almost any price; but Cicero was

not a man to be bought. He remained loyal to ~”
the Republic, of whose restoration he despaired, but ~

whose memory made the usurper’s yoke intolerably
galling and oppressive. Of course, there was no
longer a place for a free man and a patriot in the
sycophantic Senate, nor would his services as an
advocate have been propitious to a client’s interest,
in courts of law created by, and slavishly subservi-
ent to, the ruling power. His chosen vocation, that
of an orator, was thus suspended, with little hope
of an opportunity for resuming it; while the Philip-
pics, two years later, showed, in all that made him |
the most eloquent man of his time, if not. of all '
time, culmination, not decline.

Meanwhile, his home, which would have been his |
not unwelcome refuge from the toil and care of |
public life, was made desolate. He was led, evi-

xiv Introduction.

dently not without reasons that would have seemed
more than sufficient to the most rigid moralist of
that age, to repudiate his wife Terentia, after a
union of thirty-two years. About the same time,
his utterly worthless son-in-law Dolabella repudi-
ated his beloved daughter Tullia, who was dearer
to him than any other human being had ever been.
Tullia, at her father’s Tusculan villa, gave birth to
ts son, the offspring of that brief and ill-starred
union, and died suddenly at a moment of apparent
| convalescence.

Under these accumulated trials Cicero had re-
course to philosophy for support and relief; and,
/an eclectic in feeling and habit even more bien in
‘principle, he sought in the writings of the various
schools with which he was conversant such rem-
| edies as they proffered. With him reading and
writing seem to have been simultaneous processes.
His philosophical works always have the air of
being composed with his books not only close at
hand, but very fresh in his recollection. In the
| stress of sorrow he wrote the Consolatio, in which .
| he compiled all the suggestions of comfort and hope
| that came to him from ee favorite authors, in part
as they fell under his eye, in part as, inwardly
digested and assimilated, they took such shape as
his own mind alone could have given them. Of
this treatise we know little except from him, but so
much through his frequent references to it and
quotations from it as to make us deeply regret its

Introduction. Xv

irrecoverable loss. It was manifestly an intensely)
subjective treatise,—his own strong self-exhortation,
bearing the deep impress of his grief-stricken soul
and of the manly fortitude and courage with which |
he girded himself for his remaining life-work. In.
this treatise he laid full stress on the night-side of
human experience, on the fickleness of fortune and |
the liability of the most prosperous life to bereave- |
ment in all that has been its joy, pride and glory;
but at the same time he half lifted the veil — soon |
to be rent away by the Lord of life—from the
realm beyond the death-shadow, expressed his trem-
bling hope of re-union there with her from whom
it had been worse than death to part, and closed.
with what is called her apotheosis, which simply |
placed her alongside of the men who had passed |
from earthly greatness into immortality, whom he
termed gods only because they had been so named
by the credulity of the earlier ages.

Thenceforward his writings had for the most part |
so distinctly an ethical purpose, of which we see
few previous traces, that we can hardly be mistaken
in believing that his disappointments and sorrows
gave a new direction to his aim and endeavor. An
ungrateful country spurns his services; he conse-
crates them now to themes of world-wide and

world-enduring interest. It was after this period
that he produced, in rapid succession, the works |

that give him as a moral teacher the foremost place | S cece Xho?

among ante-Christian philosophers.

Xvi Introduction.

First in this series, and virtually a continuation
of the Consolatio, we have the Tusculan Disputa-
tions. The five books at first sight seem to have
as many different subjects, not necessarily related.
Yet no one can read them without feeling, or study
them without perceiving in them, as veritable a
unity as exists in the five acts of a classical drama, |
They are in the same key; though, if we employ
this metaphor, the key is, both and equally, minor

_and major. They throb throughout with the keen
_ sensitiveness of a suffering soul that has survived

not only all that it most prized of earthly goods,
but also the capacity of enjoying them, were the
past restored and the spring-tide of misfortunes
rolled back. But they are full, too, of the vigor of
a soul stronger than ever before, because it has re-
treated within itself, made its own integrity its cit-
adel, from behind whose impregnable walls it can
look on the foes to its peace with defiant scorn.
Yes, scorn, contempt of human fortunes was with
Cicero the summit of virtue; it remained for Him

_who made humanity divine to transfigure its brief

and transient experiences into types, foreshadow-
ings, foreshinings, prophecies of the eternal.

These five books have, too, a clearly defined plan,
a regular sequence of thought and reasoning, which
can be easily outlined and interpreted from the
circumstances under which they were written.

The shadow of death still rested darkly on the
Tusculan villa. The question nearest to Cicero’s

Introduction. Xvii

heart was that which furnishes. the subject for the
first book, — What is death? He believed it not
to be the extinction of being. He recognized in
man a supra-sensual element, capable of living in-
dependently of the body. Vestiges of such belief
seemed to have given shape to the rites of domestic
piety, in which the men of an earlier time not so
much commemorated their dead, as offered sacrifice
and homage to their still living ancestors. Yet as
there is no assured evidence of life beyond death,
Cicero deems it necessary to meet the other alter-
native. If the dissolution of the body is the close
of life, he shows that it is not an evil, inasmuch as
it cuts off all possibility of suffering and sorrow;
while prolonged life may be full of calamity; nor
are there wanting conspicuous instances in which
many years of prosperity have had so dreary an ap-
pendix of misfortune and grief as to make an earlier
death seem eminently desirable.

‘But for those who do not die young the question
which has priority even of that of the soul’s contin-
ued existence is that of earthly well-being. Cicero
had experienced the utter failure of the wonted
resources for this end, and yet was clearly conscious,

more so than in his prosperous days, of a happiness |

neither furnished by them nor impaired by their |

removal. He felt within his own soul a double

selfhood, —the one bereaved and wrecked; the ©

other, not only unimpaired, but enriched and en-

nobled by all that he had suffered. This better
b

}
|
|

XVili Introduction.

_ self must, however, wage severe conflicts. Bodily
| pain must be encountered by almost every one, and

all need to be armed against it. Epicurus—con-
stantly the object of Cicero’s ridicule or invective
—regarded pain as the greatest of evils, painless-
ness as the supreme good; yet maintained that pain

‘can be borne cheerfully by the thought that if
severe it must be brief, by the continued enjoy-
ment of the pleasures that are not forfeited if

the pain be moderate, and by the memory of past
and the expectation of future pleasures. This en-
tire structure of hedonism Cicero demolishes in his
second book, and shows that pain can be neutral-
ized only when moral evil is regarded as the sole

evil, or as so immeasurably the greatest of evils

that the ills of body and of fortune are held to be
infinitesimally small in comparison with it. The
argument based on this foundation, which pursues
its continuous, though somewhat devious, course
throughout the book, is interspersed with maxims
of patience, fortitude and courage, and with impres-
sive examples of brave endurance.

Next to pain comes grief, which is the subject of

| the third book. The argumentative treatment of
this is closely parallel to that of pain. But Cicero

at the same time dwells largely on the selfishness
of grief. He has much to say, also, on the degree
to which it depends on opportunity, —#it being
postponed or omitted in stress of need or peril; on
fashion,— the outward show which prolongs the

Introduction. xix

feeling being often put on or continued solely be-
cause the world expects it; and ona false estimate of
the causes of grief, — deficiencies in wisdom and vir-)
tue, which ought to be the objects of the profound-
est sorrow, occasioning less regret than is produced
by comparatively slight disappointments or losses.

Pain and grief (in its simplest form) come to us
without our seeking or responsibility, and may be
so met, borne and overcome as not to interfere
with our happiness and our permanent well-being. |
Still more hostile to our peace are the passions,
for which we are responsible, and which are the!
subject of the fourth book. These Cicero classes
under four divisions, — grief (including its malig-
nant forms, such as envy) and fear, excessive
gladness and immoderate desire. Each of these is
many-headed, and the several morbid affections of
mind and soul included in each are specified and
carefully defined. They all result from false opin- ,
ions as to evil and good, —grief and fear, from the |
belief that their objects are real and great evils; |
undue gladness and desire, from the belief that
their objects are real and great goods. The only |
preventive or remedy is the regarding, with the |
Stoics, of virtue as the sole good, and moral deprav- |
ity as the sole evil, or, at the least, with the Peri-
patetics, considering moral good and evil as so im-
measurably the supreme good and the extreme of
evil that no good or evil of body or of fortune can
be of any comparative value or significance.

xx Introduction.

Pain and grief disarmed, the passions silenced
and stultified, Virtue alone remains, and the fifth
book is devoted to the demonstration of her peer-
less radiance and her queenly power,—of her entire
sufficiency for a happy life, under all possible vicis-
situdes, in poverty, in exile, in blindness, in deaf-
ness, nay, in the maw of the bull of Phalaris. The
discussion has a wide range, is rich in illustrations
both of happiness and of misery as contingent on
character and independent of circumstances, and is
unequalled in pre-Christian literature for the exalta-
tion of Virtue as the source of all in this earthly life
that is worth living for.

It will be seen that Cicero throughout the Tus-

_ culan Disquisitions gives a foremost place to the
_ philosophy of the Stoic school; while as a disciple
of the New Academy which adopted the ethical

system of Aristotle, he constantly endeavors to
show that his main positions are not invalidated by
admitting the goods and evils of the body and of
fortune to the inferior and subordinate place which
the Peripatetics claimed for them. This place, in-
deed, was virtually assigned to them by the later
Stoics in admitting the class of objects which. they
designated as “preferable” or “desirable” (praeci-
pua, producta, swumenda), though not worthy to be
called: “ goods,” which their disciples were at liberty
to seek as secondary objects, without swerving from
their allegiance to virtue as the sole good. Indeed
the terms “supreme” and “sole” as applied to the

Introduction. Xxi

Good, will cover the entire ethical difference be-
tween the two schools as to this point. As to the|
ethical doctrine of Aristotle, that virtue is the mean
between two extremes, Cicero here and always re- |

pudiates it. Indeed, he always shows himself a |
Stoic in his ethical sympathies, though tenderly
disposed toward even the admitted errors of the
New Academy.

I.cannot. forbear quoting here a few sentences
from the Preface of Erasmus to a new edition of |
the Tusculan Disputations.

‘« A fresh perusal of the Tusculans has been of vast ben- —
efit to me, not barely in giving freshness to my style, which |
I count as of no little service, but much more in helping me |
to govern and bridle my passions. How often, while read- |
ing, have I thought with indignant scorn of the fools who
say that if you take away from Cicero his pompous array
of words, there remains nothing remarkable! What proofs
there are in his works that he possessed all that the most
learned of the Greeks had written on right and happy liv-
ing! What choice, what abundance of the soundest and
the most holy maxims! What knowledge of history, earlier
and more recent! What loftiness of thought on man’s true
happiness! . ... When we see Pagans making so good a
use of a leisure so sad as Cicero’s, and instead of seeking
the distraction of frivolous pleasures, finding consolation
in the precepts of philosophy, how is it that we are not
ashamed of our vain babbling and our luxurious living? ©
I know not what others think; but for myself I confess |
that I cannot read Cicero on the art of living well without |
believing that there was in his soul a divine inspiration, |
whence these writings came.”’

Xxli Introduction.

The Brutus to whom the Tuseulan Disputations
are inscribed was Marcus Junius Brutus, best known
as Julius Caesar’s friend and assassin. Though he
had served not without credit in various military
and civil offices, he had been commonly regarded
as deficient in worldly wisdom, — an opinion which
his subsequent career only too well justifies. But
he was a man of great learning, and had written
several philosophical works, among which were
treatises “On Duties,” “On Virtue,” “On Patience.”
He belonged to the Peripatetic school.

The form of dialogue was, as is well known, a
favorite method with the philosophers, from Plato
downward, perhaps before him. The 4. and I. of
the Tusculan Disputations have been variously un-
derstood to denote respectively, Auditor, Adolescens,
Atticus, and Aulus; and Magister,and Marcus. I
am inclined to believe that they stand for Auditor
and Marcus.

I have used Moser’s text; in a very few instan-
ces, however, adopting a reading from the edition of
Otto Heine. My aim, as in previous translations
from Cicero, has been not to give what is com-
monly called a “literal” version, but to put Cicero’s
thought unaltered into the best English forms at
my command.

In the Preface to my translation of the De Offciis
I expressed my belief that many of the “connective
and illative words that bind sentence to sentence”

Introduction. Xxiii

used by Latin prose writers, which seem superflu-
ous to the English reader, were “employed as catch-
words for the eye, and that they served the purpose
now effected by punctuation and by the capital
letters at the beginning of sentences.” On this
subject I take pleasure in submitting to my read-
ers the following letter from my friend Charles R.
Lanman, Ph. D., Professor of Sanskrit in Harvard
University :—

‘¢ Your opinion respecting the use of connectives and
illatives as catch-words for the eye is confirmed in an in-
teresting way by the usages of the writings of the second
period of Vedic literature, the Brahmanas. Their style is
so peculiar, that it would, in cases unnumbered, be ex-
tremely hard to tell where one sentence ends and another
begins, were it not for the frequent particle atha, which
marks the beginning of a new clause, and the postpositive

vai, which marks the preceding word as the first of its |

clause. It would often be quite wrong to translate them

|

by a definite word. For written language, they do the |

work of our modern marks of punctuation; and in spoken
language, they must be rendered by inflection or by stress
of voice. I may add that in the absence of capital letters,
proper names are constantly distinguished from appella-
tives of identical form by the added word ndma, ‘by name’
or ‘named.’ ’”

Md O ie Ferry

shies ita oe degyg? 3

aS *

Yeh 4 1 \ “\ xe
\

zw ANS
Anu Av.

CICERO’S TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS.

BOOK IL
ON THE CONTEMPT OF DEATH.

1. Ar a period when I was entirely or in great
part released from my labors as an advocate and
my duties as a senator, chiefly by your advice, Bru- |
tus, I betook myself again to those pursuits which, |
never out of mind, though suspended by the de-
mands upon my time, I renewed after a long inter-
val; and since the theory and practice of the arts |
that belong to the right mode of living are com-
prised in the study of that wisdom which is termed
philosophy, I deemed it fitting for me to discuss
subjects of this class in Latin. Not that philosophy
might not be learned from Greek books and teach-
ers; but it has always been my opinion that those
of our own country either surpassed the Greeks in
wisdom as to original thought, or made essential
improvement in whatever, derived from the Greeks,
they regarded as worthy of elaboration. Thus we
certainly order the habits and rules of life, and ©

everything appertaining to the home and the family, —
1

2 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

with more propriety and dignity than they; and it
is equally certain that our ancestors were their
superiors in the laws and institutions with which
they maintained the well-being of the State. What
shall I say of military affairs? in which the men
of our country have owed their eminent success,
largely indeed to prowess, still more largely to
discipline. Indeed, as to what they have attained
by nature, not by books, they are far beyond the
Greeks or any other nation; for what weight of
character, what firmness, magnanimity, probity,
good faith, what surpassing virtue of any type, has
been found in any other people to such a degree as
to make them the equals of our ancestors ?

Greece surpassed us in learning and in every
description of literature,—in which it was easy to
excel when there were no competitors; for while
with the Greeks the poets held the earliest place
among men of culture if, as is believed, Homer and
Hesiod lived before Rome was built, and Archilo-
chus during the reign of Romulus, our poetry bore
a later date. It was about five hundred and ten
years after the foundation of Rome that Livius?
wrote his first play, in the consulship of Caius
Claudius, the son of Caecus, and Marcus Tuditanus,
a year before the birth of Ennius, who was older
than Plautus and Naevius.

2. It was, then, at a late period that poets were

1 Livius Andronicus, whose plays, Cicero says, are not worth
a second reading.

On the Contempt of Death. 3

known to our people or received! among them. It
is, indeed, recorded in Cato’s “Origines”? that the
guests at entertainments used to sing the praises
of eminent men with the accompaniment of the
flute; but that poets were not held in honor appears
from one of Cato’s speeches, in which he makes it
a reproach to Marcus Nobilior® that he took poets
with him into one of the provinces, — he having, as
we know, when consul, taken Ennius to Aetolia.
Meanwhile, the less the honor paid to poetry, the
fewer there were who cultivated it; though such
few of our people as showed great genius in this
art did not fail to deserve equal reputation with
the Greeks. But if Fabius,t a man worthy of the
highest distinction, had received due praise as a
painter, can we suppose that there would not have
been many among us to emulate the fame of Poly-
cletus and Parrhasius? Honor nourishes the arts,
and all are inflamed by the love of glory to the

1 None of the early Roman poets were natives of Rome. Thus
Livius came from Tarentum; Naevius and Lucilius, from Cam-
pania ; Ennius, from Calabria; Plautus, from Umbria; Terence,
from Carthage.

2 A work of Cato, purporting to give the history of Rome from
its ‘‘ origin” till the author’s own time, together with the ‘‘ori-
gins” of the old towns and cities of Italy.

8 Marcus Fulvius Nobilior, who, as a lover of Greek literature

and art, drew upon himself Cato’s hostility. Cato used to make
sport with his name, calling him Mobzlior.

* Caius Fabius Pictor, who painted the temple of Salus, on the
Quirinal Hill, about 300 s.c. He was the earliest Roman of
distinguished rank who professed to be an artist.

4 Cicero’s Tuseulan Disputations.

pursuits by which it may be won, while those pur-
suits that are held in disesteem languish in neg-
lect. The Greeks regarded singing and playing on
stringed instruments as the highest accomplish-
ment. Thus Epaminondas, whom I consider as
the greatest of the Greeks, is said to have been
eminent as a singer and a lute-player, while, some
years earlier, Themistocles was thought to be poorly
educated because he declined to perform on the

lyre at an entertainment. Therefore musicians
flourished in Greece, and all learned music, nor
was one who was ignorant of it thought to be
properly educated. Geometry also was in the high-
est esteem among them, and none were more illus-
trious than the mathematicians; while in this art
we go no farther than is needful for the purpose of
measuring and calculating

3. But, on the other hand, we early showed favor
to orators, who at first had little culture, but were
possessed of a fitness for public speaking, to which
they afterward added a suitable education; for the
tradition is that Galba, Africanus, and Laelius were
learned men, that Cato, who was their senior, was
‘a man of studious habits, and so. in later time were
Lepidus, Carbo, the Gracchi. Thence till now we

1 With some exceptions. Cicero (De Offciis, i. 6) speaks of
Caius Sulpicius as versed in astronomy, and of Sextus Pompeius
as equally an adept in geometry. As Caius Sulpicius is known
to have calculated an eclipse, he must have been conversant with
mathematical no less than with descriptive astronomy.

On the Contempt of Death. 5

have had a series of orators so deservedly eminent
that Greece has little or no advantage of us. Mean-
while philosophy has been neglected down to the!
present day, nor has it had a single Latin author
who has thrown light upon it. My purpose is so
to illustrate it and place it before the public mind)
that if in my busy life I have been of any service
to my fellow-citizens, I may, if possible, serve them
in my leisure. It is incumbent on me to be the)
more elaborate, because it is said that there are
already in this department many Latin books care-
lessly written, by men who are indeed very good,
but not sufficiently learned.t One may think cor-
rectly, yet be unable to give elegant expression to
what he thinks; and in that case for a man to com-
mit his thoughts to writing when he can neither
arrange them, nor illustrate them, nor attract read- |
ers by anything that can give them delight, is the
part of a man who outrageously abuses both leisure
and letters. Such writers read their own books
with their intimate friends, nor does any one else
touch them except those who crave for themselves
like liberty of writing. If then by my industry I
have won any reputation as an orator, with all the
1 We have the names— hardly anything more— of several
writers of the Epicurean school who were before Cicero, One of
these was Amafinius, whom Cicero elsewhere criticises as deficient
in arrangement and in style. Catius also is mentioned by Cicero
as a writer not otherwise than agreeable, but of little substantial

merit. Cicero always speaks contemptuously of the Epicurean
philosophy and its expounders,

}
|
|

6 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

more strenuous industry I shall open the fountains

_ of philosophy, from which my success has flowed.

4. But as Aristotle, a man of consummate genius,
learning, and versatility of resource, moved by the
fame of Isocrates, the rhetorician, began himself
to teach young men to speak, and thus to unite
wisdom with eloquence, so it seems good to me,
without laying aside my old pursuit of oratory, to
busy myself in this greater and more fruitful de-

_ partment of philosophy ; for I have always thought

it the perfection of philosophy to be able to discuss
the most momentous questions copiously and ele-
gantly. To this exercise I have devoted myself so
zealously that I would now even dare to hold dis-
putations after the manner of the Greeks. Thus
lately, after you had left Tusculum, several friends

_ being with me, I tried what I could accomplish in

this way; for as I used to declaim forensic pleas, and
did so longer than any one else, so this is now the
declamation of my old age. I asked for the nam-
ing of a subject on which any person present
wanted to hear me speak, and I discussed it either
sitting or walking. I have here put the dispu-
tations — schools! the Greeks call them —of five
days into as many books. When he who started
the discussion had said what he wanted to say, I
answered him. This is, as you know, the ancient
and Socratic method of discoursing against another
person’s opinion; for Socrates thought this the best

1 Txoral.

On the Contempt of Death. 7

way of determining what has the nearest semblance
to truth. In order to put our disputations into a
more convenient form, I will write them out in
dialogue, not in narrative. So then we will begin.

5. A. Death seems to me an evil.

M. To those who are dead, or to those who are
going to die?

A. To both.

M. It is then a cause of misery, since it is an
evil.

A. Certainly.

M. Then both those to whom death has already
happened and those to whom it is going to happen
are miserable.

A. So I think.

M. Therefore there is no one who is not miserable.

A. Absolutely no one.

M. In truth, if you mean to be consistent with
yourself, all who ever have been born or will be
born are not only miserable, but also perpetually
miserable. For if you were to call those miserable
who were going to die, you could except no one
of those who were living, since they all must die;
yet there might be an end of misery in death. But
since the dead also are miserable, we are born to
eternal misery; for those must be miserable who
died a hundred thousand years ago, — indeed, this |
must be true of all who were ever born.

A. Such is my opinion.

M. Tell me, I pray you, are you terrified by such

8 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

things as the three-headed Cerberus in the infernal
regions? The murmur of the current of Cocytus?
The ferry across the Acheron? Tantalus

“ Half-dead with thirst, up to his chin in water” 1
Or the story

** Of panting Sisyphus, rolling the rock,

Which still rebounds, and never nears the summit” ??

Or, perchance, of those inexorable judges, Minos
and Rhadamanthus? before whom neither Lucius
Crassus nor Marcus Antonius will defend you, nor
yet, while the judges are Greeks, can you command
Demosthenes as your advocate, but must plead
your own cause before a vast multitude. You per-
haps fear these things, and therefore regard death
as an eternal evil.

6. A. Do you think that I am such a fool as to
_ believe these things ?

M. Do you not believe them ?

A. By no means.

M. I am sorry to hear you say so.

A. Why? pray.

M. Because I could be eloquent in talking against
those stories.

A, Who would not be eloquent on such a theme ?
What difficulty is there in showing the falsity of
the horrors invented by poets and painters ?

M. Yet the books of philosophers are full of ar-
guments against these very things.

1 A verse from some lost poem. 2 From Lucilius,

On the Contempt of Death. 9

A. This is utterly needless; for who is so feeble-
minded as to be moved by them ?

M. If then there are no miserable beings in the }
underworld,! there are no beings at all in the under-
world.

A. That is precisely what I think.

M. Where then are those whom you call misera-
ble? Or what place do they inhabit? For if they
exist, they cannot be nowhere.

A. But I think that they are nowhere.

M. Then do you think that they do not exist ?

A. Precisely so; and yet I regard them as miser-
able for the very reason that they do not exist.

M. Now I would rather have you afraid of Cer-

berus, than that you should utter yourself about
these matters so foolishly,
A, What do you mean ?

M. You deny and affirm the existence of the >
same person. Where is your discernment? For |
when you say that a dead person is miserable, you ©

say that he exists who does not exist.
A. I am not so stupid as to say this.
M. What do you say then ?

A. That Marcus Crassus, for instance, who lost |

that immense fortune by death, is miserable; that
Cneius Pompeius, who was deprived of such great
glory, is miserable; in fine, that all are miserable
who lack the light of this world.
M. You come round again to the same point;
1 Latin, apud inferos.

10 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

_ for if they are miserable, they must of necessity

exist; but you just now denied the existence
of those who are dead. If then they are not,

| they cannot be anything, — therefore they are not

miserable.

A. I perhaps fail to express what I mean; for I
think it the extreme of misery not to be, after hav-
ing been.

M. What? More miserable than never to have
been at all? So those who are not yet born are
already miserable, because they do not exist; and
we, if we are going to be miserable after death, were
miserable before we were born. But I do not re-
member having been miserable before I was born.
If you have a better memory, I should be glad to
know what you recollect about yourself.

7. A. You are in jest in representing me as call-
ing those who are not born, and not those who are
dead, miserable.

M. You at least say that those who are dead are
miserable.

A. Yes,—I say that they are miserable because
they are not, yet have been.

M. Do you not see that you are uttering contra-
dictory things? For what can be so contradictory
as to say that he who is not is miserable, or is any-
thing else whatever? When as you leave the city
by the Capena gate you see the tombs of Calatinus,
the Scipios, the Servilii, the Metelli, do you think
those men miserable?

On the Contempt of Death. 11

A. Since you take umbrage at a mere word of
mine, I hereafter will not say that they are miser-
able, but will only call them miserable for the very
reason that they are not.

M. You do not say then, “Marcus Crassus is
miserable,” but only “ Miserable Marcus Crassus.”

A, That is what I mean.

M. As if it were not necessary that whatever you
thus speak of either is or is not. Are you not con-
versant with the rudiments of logic? This is among
its first principles: — Every proposition — for thus
I would, as now advised, express what is meant by
afiwpa ;1 I will afterward give another definition
if I find a better —every proposition asserts that
its predicate is either true or false as to its subject.
When therefore you say, “ Miserable Marcus Cras-
sus,” you either say, “ Marcus Crassus is miserable,”
so that it can be determined whether the assertion
is true or false, or you say nothing at all.

A. I grant that those who are dead are not mis- |
erable, since you have compelled me to confess that _
those who do not exist at all cannot be miserable. |
Yet are not we who live miserable, seeing that we
must die? For what pleasure can there be in life,
while by day and by night we cannot but think |
that we may die at any moment ? |

1 Axiom. The term, however, is not used in its mathematical
sense of a self-evident truth. It is employed to denote a logical
proposition. The logical principle here referred to is the law of ©
Excluded Middle, — “‘ Everything must either be or not be.”

12 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

8. M. Do you not then understand of how much
evil you have relieved the condition of man ?

A. How?

M. Because if death made the dead miserable,
we should then have among the conditions of life a
certain infinite and eternal evil But nowI see a
goal, which reached, there is nothing more to be
feared. But you seem to me to follow the opinion
of Epicharmus, a man of discernment, and, for a
Sicilian,} not without good sense.

A. What does he say? for I do not know.

M. I will give you what he says, in Latin, if I
can; but you are aware that I am not wont to put
_ Greek into Latin any more than Latin into Greek.
| A, And you are in the right there; but I want
' to hear this opinion of Epicharmus.
| M. «dread to die, but dread not being dead.” 2
A. I reeognize the Greek? in this. But since
_ you have compelled me to grant that those who are

1 Epicharmus was born in Cos, but was taken in his infancy to
Sicily, and lived for the rest of his days, first in Megara, and then
in Syracuse. He was both a comie poet and a Pythagorean phi-
losopher ; and in the fragments of his comedies that are extant
there is a strange mixture of buffoonery and philosophy. Though
he wrote much expressly on philosophical subjects, the verse
quoted here is evidently from one of his comedies.

2 The Greek verse of Epicharmus is lost, though among his
fragments there are sentiments not unlike that expressed in
Cicero’s translation, Cicero’s verse is, —

| ** Emori nolo; sed me esse mortuum nihil aestumo.”
3 The Greck weakness, effeminacy, timidity, as opposed to the
defiant hardihood and bravery in which the Romans took pride.

On the Contempt of Death. 13

dead are not miserable, convince me, if you can,
that it is not misery to be under the necessity of
dying.

M. This will give me no trouble; but I shall
attempt yet greater things.

A. How can this give you no trouble? And
what are the greater things of which you speak ?

M. To answer your first question, — Since after
death there is no evil, death surely is not an evil.
Immediately succeeding it is the time after death,
in which you grant that there is no evil. There-
fore the necessity of dying is not an evil; for dying
is but reaching the Sunehnon —— as you and I
agree, is not an evil. \od ", :

A. I beg you to stelkin ‘this Lobe afi Rath ; for
these somewhat subtile arguments compel me to
admit their force before I feel fully convinced.
Then too, what are the greater things which you |
promise to attempt ?

M. To teach you, if I can, that death is not only |
no evil, but a good.

A. This I by no means claim from you, yet I
shall be glad to hear your reasoning; for though
you may not fully accomplish your purpose, you
will at least prove that death is not an ‘evil. But
I will not interrupt you. I would rather hear a
continuous discourse.

MM. What do you mean? If I ask you a ques-
tion, will you not answer ?

A, To refuse to answer would, indeed, be inso-

14 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

lent; but I would rather that you would not ask
me anything, unless it be necessary.

9. M. I will do as you say, and will explain
these things to the utmost of my ability, yet not
with the assurance befitting the Pythian Apollo,
that all that I say is certain and beyond dispute,
but as an ordinary man? endeavoring to conjecture
what is probable; for I will go no further than to
state probabilities, while those will speak with
certainty, who both maintain that these things can
be ascertained with precision, and profess them-
selves to be possessed of infallible wisdom.

A, Take the course that seems to you best. I
am ready to listen.

M. We ought, then, first to see what death,
which seems to be thoroughly well known, really
is. There are those who think that death is a sep-
aration of the soul from the body, and others who
maintain that there is no separation, but that soul
and body perish together, the soul being extin-
guished in the body. Of those who think that the
soul leaves the body, some say that it is immedi-
ately dispersed so as to have no longer a separate
existence ; others, that it continues long in being ;?
others still, that it lives on forever. Then again,
there is a wide difference of opinion as to what the

1 Latin, homunculus unus e muitis, literally, ‘‘ One little man
out of many.”

2 Many of the Stoics believed that the human soul would
retain its individual existence till the dissolution of the material
universe, when it will be reabsorbed into the soul of the universe.

On the Contempt of Death. 15

soul is, or where, or whence. Some suppose that
the heart is the soul, whence the terms heartless,
foolish-hearted,? of kindred heart,? and the name
given to that wise Nasica who was twice consul,
Dear Litile Heart; and

‘The noble-hearted Catus Aelius Sextus.” 5

Empedocles thinks that the blood diffused through
the heart constitutes the soul. Some suppose that
a certain portion of the brain holds the sovereignty
that belongs to the soul. Others are not satisfied
with regarding the heart or any part of the brain as
the soul, and of these some say that the soul has
its seat or dwelling-place in the heart; some, in
the brain. Yet others—and such is the general

opinion in my school of philosophy — think that
the breath or spirit constitutes the soul. Indeed, |

we use the term breath or spirit® to denote soul, as
to draw and to exhale the vital breath,’ and spirited,®

and of right spirit? and in harmony with one’s |

spirit. Moreover our word for sowl is derived
from the word that means breath.™ Still further,
Zeno the Stoic supposed the soul to be fire.

10. These beliefs as to the soul’s being heart,
blood, brain, breath, fire, have been largely diffused ;
others have had a more limited acceptance. Many

1 Excordes. 2 Vecordes, 3 Concordes.

* Corculum, a diminutive, used as a term of endearment.

5 A verse of Ennius. 6 Anima.

7 Agere animam et efflare. 8 Animosi.

2 Bene animati. 10 Ex animi sententia.

11 Animus, from anima,

16 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

of the ancients, and latest among them Aristoxenus,
who was both a musician and a philosopher, main-
tained that the soul is a certain tension of the
members and organs of the body analogous to what
is called harmony in singing or in stringed instru-
ments, so that the various movements of the human
being are called forth from the nature and confor-
mation of the body, like sounds in music. Ari-
stoxenus adhered to his theory, and yet its real
significance and value had long before been stated
and explained! by Plato. Xenocrates denied that
the soul has form or anything corresponding to
body, but said that it consists of number, which, as
Pythagoras had already taught, is the greatest force
in nature. Plato, the teacher of Xenocrates, made
the soul threefold, placing its sovereign, reason, in
the head; while he separated the two parts subject
‘to its command, anger and desire, giving to anger
its seat in the breast, and to desire, under the dia-
phragm. Dicaearchus, in the three books which
purport to contain the discussions of certain learned
men at Corinth, introduces many speakers in the
first book, and in the other two, Pherecrates,? an old
1 Latin, explanatum. Wyttenbach proposes, instead of this,
explosum as a conjectural reading, as in the Phaedo there is an
elaborate demonstration of the baselessness and inadequacy of this
theory. Buta theory must be explained in order to be exploded,
and the structure of the sentence is such that explanatum, while
in better taste, would be equivalent to exploswm. Aristoxenus
was a disciple and the expectant successor of Aristotle.

2 A fictitious name, under which Dicaearchus probably stated
his own theory of the soul.

On the Contempt of Death. 17

man from Phthia, whom he calls a descendant of
Deucalion, who maintains that the soul is noth-
ing at all, that it is a mere empty name, that such
terms as animals and animated beings are unmean-
ing, that there is no soul or mind in either man or
beast, and that all the force with which we either
act or feel is equally diffused in all bodies, and is
inseparable from body, indeed, has no existence of
its own, so that nothing exists save body sole and
simple, so shaped that it can live and feel by virtue
of its natural organism. Aristotle, far transcending
all but Plato in genius and in industry, recognizing
the four primitive elements in which all things had
their origin, maintains that there is a fifth natural
substance from which mind is derived; for it ap-
pears to him that to reflect, to foresee, to learn, to
teach, to invent, and so many other things, to re-
member, to love, to hate, to desire, to fear, to be
grieved, to be glad,—these and the like cannot have
their source in the four elements. He adds to them
a fifth, for which he finds no existing name, and he

therefore calls the soul by a new name, évredéyetar,?? |

as if it were prolonged and perpetual motion.

11. Unless some have escaped my memory, these
are nearly all the opinions concerning the soul ;
for we may leave out of account Democritus, who,

1 Animalia and animantes, names which denote in their struc-
ture the presence of soul or mind, animus or anima.
2 Intellect. Probably évredéxeva was originally written évde)é- |
xeta, which implies continuity.
2

18 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

great man as he was, yet regarded the soul as
resulting from a certain fortuitous concourse of
smooth and round particles of matter. Forsooth,
in the opinion of philosophers of this class, there is
nothing which cannot be brought to pass by the
swirl of atoms. Which of the opinions that I have
(named is true, some god must determine; which
is the most probable is the great question for us.
Shall we attempt to discriminate among them, or
shall we return to our original purpose ?

A. I should be glad of both, were it possible;
but it is difficult to pursue both lines of discussion
together. Therefore, if without treating of these
opinions we can get rid of the fear of death, let this

_be our present endeavor; but if this requires the
| previous discussion of the origin of souls, such dis-
cussion must have the precedence, and the other
subject must be postponed.

M. I regard the course which you propose as
the more suitable; for reason will show that,
whichever of the opinions that I have named may
be true, death is either no evil, or—still more —
is a good. For if the soul is heart, or blood, or
brain, since it is body, it will perish with the rest
of the body; if it is breath, it will be dissipated ;
if fire, it will be quenched; if the harmony of Ari-
stoxenus, it will be dissolved. What shall I say
about Dicaearchus, who asserts that the soul is
nothing at all? According to all these opinions
nothing that belongs to any man can remain after

On the Contempt of Death. 19

death ; for consciousness is lost equally with life,
and to one who has no consciousness no event,
prosperous or adverse, can be of any concern. The
opinions of the other philosophers whom I have
named offer the hope —if that gives you pleasure
—that the soul when it departs from the body may
pass on to heaven, as to its own proper home.

A, This hope is truly delightful tome. I would
desire it first of all, and even were it not true, I
should want to be convinced of it.

M. What need then is there of any help from,
me? Can I surpass Plato in eloquence? Study
carefully his book about the soul,! and you can ask
for nothing more.

A. I have done so, by Hercules, and indeed over
and over again; but somehow, while I am reading |
I agree with Plato; when I lay down the book, and |
reflect in my own thoughts on the immortality of
souls, all that assurance vanishes.

M. How is this? Do you admit that souls either
continue in being after death, or perish at the mo-
ment of death ?

A. Certainly.

M. What is the case if they continue in being ?

A, I grant that they are happy.

M. What, if they perish at death ?

A. I grant that they are not miserable, because
they are not in being; for this you forced me to
admit a little while ago.

1 The Phaedo,
@ ~ — \ j

— V4 MmrLACrd ae a sy 6 ) GO UI LIX

\ \
) A
Coan rs 5 iv, e Sok. ie yo
f , 4 Roce eee 4 ad -
(Meet thao Oyen COVA Cot Te SL, 4
\ \

: q.
Loney Swans Wha Salar Ve 2

f
Ae Oly rv

Wan hate OY
\
Wit \t4
er pe
fe J NAR
dha ee
Os ta tte

;

|
'
|

20 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

M. How, then, or why do you say that death
seems to you an evil, since it will make us either
happy if our souls continue in being, or not miser-
able if we are no longer conscious ?

12. A. Unless it will give you too much trouble,
show first, if you can, that souls continue in being
after death, — then, if you are not entirely success-
ful (for the task is a difficult one), you shall teach
me that death is absolutely free from evil; for I
still cannot help fearing that, if not the lack of con-
sciousness, the necessity of incurring this lack may
be an evil.

M. I can adduce the highest authority in behalf
of the opinion which you would gladly have estab-
lished ; and this, both of right and of usage, is of the

, utmost avail on all subjects. In the first place I
_ would refer you to the whole ancient world, which,

because less remote from the origin and divine
parentage of the race, may have had a clearer view
of the reality of things. Thus it was the deep-
seated belief of those of the Latin race whom En-
nius describes as of the greatest antiquity, that

there is consciousness in death, and that by the

cessation of life man is not so destroyed as to per-
ish utterly. This, while shown in many other
ways, may be inferred from the pontifical law? and

1 Latin, quos cascos appellat Ennius, ‘‘whom Ennius calls
casct.” Cascus means ancient, is itself an old word of Oscan
origin, and was almost obsolete when Ennius used it.

2 The Roman religion was a State institution, governed both

On the Contempt of Death. 21

the ceremonies connected with sepulchres.! These)
observances men of the highest genius would not.
have maintained with so great scrupulousness, nor
have so attached to their violation inexpiable guilt,
unless they had been firmly persuaded that death
is not a catastrophe that takes away and blots out
everything, but is, so to speak, a migration and a
change of life, which in the case of eminent men and
women they supposed to be transferred to heaven,
while for others they believed it to be continued in
the underworld? indeed, but none the less perpet-
ual. Hence our ancestors thought that
‘With gods in heaven Romulus still lives,”

as Ennius says, in accordance with the general fie
dition; and among the Greeks Hercules is regarded
as a god of surpassing greatness and helpfulness,
insomuch that from them his fame has extended to
us, and even to the shores of the Ocean. Thus it
was that Liber, the son of Semele, passed into the
company of the gods, and a like illustrious destiny
belongs to the twin sons of Tyndareus, who are
accounted as not only having helped the Roman
people to subdue their enemies in battle, but also

by custom, which corresponded to our common law, and by express \
statutes. Of course a very large portion of the provisions of this
branch of law related to funeral rites and observances commemo- ‘
rative of the dead.

1 This argument is again employed by Cicero in the De Ami-
citia, § 4.

2 Latin, humi, literally on the ground, but undoubtedly mean- {
ing beneath the ground.

22 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

as having carried the tidings of their victory.
What? Was not Ino, the daughter of Cadmus,
deified by the Greeks under the name of AevxoOéa?
and by us as Matuta? What? To cite no other
single instances, is not all heaven almost filled with
the human race ?

13. Indeed, should I attempt to search into an-
cient traditions, and to draw ‘from them what Greek
writers have transmitted to us, it would be found
that even those gods who are regarded as of the
highest rank went from us mortals to heaven.

Ask whose sepulchres* are shown in Greece;
recall, since you are among the initiated, what was
delivered to you in the mysteries;* and you may

1 They were said to have fought for and with the Romans against
the Latins in the battle of Lake Regillus, again, against Perseus
in the battle of Pydna, and a third time, against the Cimbrians
at Verona. In the second instance they were believed to have
carried the news of the victory to Rome.

2 Leucothea, the white goddess. Matuta is equivalent to ma-
tutina, —the goddess of the morning ; and her Greek name prob-
ably refers to the white light of the dawn succeeding the darkness
of the night.

3 Tombs of gods, and even of the greater divinities, as that of
Demeter at Eleusis.

# The Eleusinian mysteries. What these were can only be
-conjectured, or inferred from incidental allusions. But there is
reason to believe that a purer theology and a higher philosophy
_of spiritual things than would have been tolerated in earlier times

by the popular superstition, or at a later period by law, formed
the subject-matter of the traditions and teachings thus transmit-
ted to minds capable of receiving them. It is almost certain that
these mysteries comprised the immortality of the soul ; and there

On the Contempt of Death. 23

then understand how extensive this belief is, But
the ancients, who had not yet learned anything of
physical science, which began to be studied long
afterward, derived their convictions on this subject
from the teachings of nature; they knew nothing
of the reasons and causes of things. They were
often led by certain visions, and these chiefly by
night, to believe that those who had passed out of
this earthly life still lived. Now it seems to be.
considered as the strongest reason for maintaining |
the existence of gods, that there is no race so rude,
no man so savage as not to be imbued with the
belief in gods. Though many have depraved no- |
tions about the gods in consequence of their own
defective characters, yet all admit that there is a
divine nature and power; nor has this belief been |
brought about by the conference or consent of men, |
nor established by institutions or enactments. But
on every subject the common sense of nations is
to be regarded as the law of nature. Who is
there, then, who does not feel deep sorrow for the
is strong probability that they also taught the human origin and
the non-deity of the popular gods, and the unity of the Supreme
Being, —monotheism with a pantheistic penumbra. |
1 Men always make to themselves gods after their own like- ;
ness. This is true even in the Christian church, and the non- |
Christian notions of the Divine character that have prevailed in
it have been but the reflections of the characters of those who have
taught or believed them. Thus there is profound philosophy no
less than the highest ethical wisdom in the words of the Divine |

Teacher: ‘‘Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see
God.”

24 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

death of his friends, chiefly because he imagines
that they are deprived of the comforts of the earthly
life? Remove this idea, and you will take away
the bitterness of sorrow. No one is profoundly
afflicted merely by his own loss. For this men
may grieve and be sad; but lugubrious lamentation
and agonizing tears flow from the thought that he
whom we have loved is deprived of the comforts of
the earthly life, and is conscious of his privation.}
Thus we feel the continuity of life after death under
the leading of nature, with no help from reason and
from science.

14. But the strongest argument is that Nature
herself bears tacit testimony to the immortality of
'souls in the fact that all men feel concern, and
even the greatest concern, as to what will take
place after they are dead. “One plants trees for
the benefit of a coming generation,” as says a char-
acter in the Synephebi;? but what can he have in
view, unless succeeding generations belong to him ?

1 Cicero does not here intimate that the dead, even those that
remain in the underworld, are not happy. The feeling to which
he refers has— though it may be doubted whether it ought to
have —its frequent utterance among Christians who profess to
have no doubt of the continued and happy life of their departed
friends. Many of our wonted expressions of sorrow, especially
for those who die young, imply a certain pity for them that they
are cut off from what they most enjoyed here, even when there is
a sincere belief that they have entered upon a happier state of
being. ;

2 A lost play of Caecilius Statius. Cicero quotes these words
again, in the De Senectute, § 7.

On the Contempt of Death. 25

The careful husbandman then will plant trees none
of whose fruit he will ever see. Will not the great |
man in like manner plant laws, institutions, the |
commonwealth? - What signify the production of |

, children, the prolonging of a name, the adoption of |
sons, care in the making of wills, epitaphs on tombs, |
unless we are taking thought for the future? What @;

does all this mean? Have you any doubt that im
every department of nature the best specimens
should furnish its types? What nature then in
the race of man is better than that of those who
think themselves born to help, defend, preserve
mankind? Hercules went to the gods. He would
never have gone to them, had he not, while among
men, built his own road. These traditions are an-
cient, and are hallowed by the religious reverence
of all men.

15. What can we suppose that so many and so
great men in our republic had in view in being
slain for their country? That their conscious fame |
would be bounded by the term of their earthly |
life? No man without a strong hope of immortal- |
ity would offer himself to death for his native land. |
Themistocles might have led a life of ease; so might
Epaminondas; so might I, not to multiply ancient.
and foreign instances. But somehow there is inhe- |
rent in the mind what seems a presage of coming |
generations, and this exists in its utmost strength
and betrays itself most readily in men of the great-
est genius and of the loftiest soul. Were this taken. |
Qed 2 Wun pow : Yee nin hahaa

OL Co ie Vaw rai aw did. Pt yl an S

SARE

\
kt \4
o)
Bod. *+
|
cw ovAdd J

‘ 0
wr dk Low

Aiken vel Hk
pet al Cm

\--
“vo ais

Cayweh

26 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

away, who would be so mad as to live in labor and
peril? I speak thus of men in public station.

_ What shall I say of the poets? Do not they want

to be ennobled after they are dead? Whence
comes this, —
**Romans, behold the form of Ennius ;
Your fathers’ noble deeds his verse records” ?1
He craves the meed of praise from those whose
fathers he had crowned with glory. He says, too,
** Let no one grace my funeral with tears ;
A living soul, I fly where floats my song.”

But why do I dwell on the poets? Artists equally
wish to be ennobled after death. What did Phidias
mean when, not permitted to inscribe his name, he
enclosed his likeness, in the shield of Minerva ?
What do our philosophers have in mind? Do they
not inscribe their names in the very books that
they write about the contempt of fame? Now, if
the consent of all men is the voice of nature, and
if all everywhere agree that there still exists some-
thing belonging to those who have departed this
life, we certainly ought to be of the same opinion.
Still further, if we think that those whose souls are
pre-eminent in genius or in virtue, because of their
superior endowments, have the clearest view of
what nature teaches, it is probable, since every

1 Verses written by Ennius for his own epitaph, and undoubt-
edly inscribed beneath his bust on the monument erected in mem-

ory of him, which was still standing in the sepulchre of the
Scipios in Cicero’s time.

On the Contempt of Death. 27

man of superior excellence devotes himself with |
the utmost zeal to the service of posterity, that |
there is something of which he will have the con- |
sciousness after death.

16. But as we learn from nature the existence of |
the gods, and ascertain their character only by rea-
son, so while we are convinced of the immortality |
of souls by the consent of all nations, where they
dwell and in what condition must be determined
by reason, the neglect of which has given rise to
the figment of the infernal regions and to those
terrors for which you just now rightly expressed
your contempt. For as bodies fall to the ground,
and are covered with earth! (whence our word
inter”), it was supposed that the dead pass the
rest of their life under the earth. This belief led
to great errors, which the poets made still greater.
The crowded seats of the theatre, containing many
feeble-minded women® and children, are deeply
moved on hearing such grandiloquent verses as
these :*—

‘** From Acheron I come, —an arduous way,
Through caverns built of vast, rough, hanging rocks,
Where dense infernal darkness ever broods,”

This erroneous belief — now, it seems to me, done

1 Humo. 2 Humari.
8 Mulierculae, a diminutive, but freely used as a term of
contempt.

4 These verses are probably derived from the opening words of
the Hecuba of Euripides, in which the ghost of Polydorus appears
on the stage.

28 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

away — prevailed to such an extent that, though
men knew that bodies were burned, they yet imag-
ined that things were done in the infernal regions,
which could be neither done nor conceived of with-
out bodies. For they could not take into their
minds the idea of souls living by themselves, and
so they sought to invent some form and shape for
them. Hence the entire vecvia! of Homer. Hence
the scheme of vexpoyavreia* which my friend
Appius devised. Hence the beliefs attached to
Lake Avernus in my neighborhood? —

1 Necrology, or the story of the dead, — the title of the eleventh
book of the Odyssey, which describes the visit of Ulysses to the
infernal regions.

2 Necromancy. Appius Claudius Pulcher, long a friend and
correspondent of Cicero, afterward his enemy, and probably never
worthy of his friendship, was an augur, wrote a treatise on augu-
ral law which he dedicated to Cicero, and is said to have been
himself a believer in augury and grossly superstitious. He con-
sulted the Delphic oracle as to his own fortune in the civil war,
followed Pompey, and died before the battle of Pharsalia.

3 Tusculum was not very near the Lake Avernus ; but several of
Cicero’s villas were in its vicinity, which was the favorite summer
resort of rich Romans. I regard as highly probable what is often
called a fanciful derivation of Avernus from 4 privative and pus,
a bird, denoting birdless, and implying that birds cannot or do
not fly over it. The whole region steams with mephitic vapors,
the very oysters from the Avernus have a strong volcanic flavor,
and during the many centuries for which Vesuvius was inactive
| the adjacent country may have been more offensive in its exha-
_ lations than since they have had their vent in the now ever-
burning mountain. Were we believers in a sulphureous under-
| world for departed souls, we should not go far from Avernus for
its gate.

On the Contempt of Death. 29

** Whence from the open gate of Acheron
By bloody rites the shadowy dead are summoned.”

These shades of the dead are supposed to speak,
which they cannot do without tongue, nor without
palate, nor without the form and action of jaws,
ribs, lungs. Those who thought thus could discern
nothing by the inward vision, but referred every-
thing to the outward eye. It is the work of sur-,,
passing genius to separate the mind from the senses, |
and to divert thought from its accustomed channels. |
I have no doubt that there were very many in the |
earlier time who so believed, but Pherecydes of Syros |
is the earliest extant writer who said that souls are
immortal. He lived while the founder of my fam-
ily was king This opinion of his received the
strongest confirmation from his disciple Pythagoras
who, coming to Italy in the reign of Superbus, held |
‘the foremost place in Magna Graecia? by the re-
nown of his school and the authority of his wisdom,
insomuch that the name of a Pythagorean had such
reputation for many generations afterward that none —
who did not bear it were accounted as learned men.
17. But I return to the early philosophers of
that school. They gave hardly any reasons for their
opinion, save such as needed to be explained by
numbers or diagrams. It is said that Plato, in

1 Servius Tullius, whom the Tullian family regarded as their
ancestor.

2 A region of Southern Italy almost wholly peopled by Greek
colonists,

. ‘

\\ x1, + ’ en M+

ine Gems an Bey VARA Qe cons here baat
} ~

\ \ ‘
“WA TA cCatarvrorriokr., Git Usvrteer Tru yt

od

30 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

order to become acquainted with the Pythagoreans,
came into Italy, and learned all the philosophy of
Pythagoras, and especially that he not only had the
same opinion with him about the eternity of souls,
but also gave reasons for it, which if you have no
objection, we will pass over, and leave without far-
ther discussion this entire subject of the hope of
immortality.

A, Do you say so? When you have brought
me to the summit of expectation, will you leave
me? I would rather, by Hercules, err with Plato,

for whom I am well aware of your unqualified es-
teem, and whom I admire on your authority, than

hold the truth with those other philosophers.
M. I give you joy on feeling thus; for I too

would not have disdained to err with one so wise.

Do we then doubt—as we do in many matters,
but least of all in this, in which we have the posi-
tive assurance of mathematicians — that the earth,
situated in the middle of the universe, is with ref-
erence to the entire heavens like the point which
they call the «évtpov?1 This being admitted, the
nature of the four elements from which all bodies

-are generated? is such that they spontaneously

assume different directions. Earthy and humid
substances by their own tendency and weight are
borne perpendicularly toward the earth and the sea.
As they tend by gravity and weight toward the

1 Centre.

2 Earth, water, air and fire.

t X y yA AL ;
Be “& C wor 4 : > x ?

On the Contempt of Death. 31

centre of the universe,! so the others, fire and air, ,

fly in straight lines into the celestial region, either —

of their own nature seeking a higher place, or, be-

cause they are lighter, naturally expelled by heavier |
substances. Since such is the law of nature, it

ought to be clearly understood that souls when
they leave the body, whether they be breath, that
is, aerial, or whether they be of fire, are borne aloft.

But if the soul be a certain number, as some call it |

with more subtlety than lucidness, or if it be that
fifth element rather unnamed than not understood,

these are so transcendently perfect and pure that |
they must rise very far above the earth. Now the |
soul is one of these essences that I have named; _

for we cannot admit that a mind so active lies in
heart or brain, or, as Empedocles maintains, in
the blood.

18. We may omit farther mention of Dicaear-
chus, with his contemporary and fellow-disciple
Aristoxenus, of whom the former seems never to
have pitied himself for having no soul, while the
latter is so charmed with his music that he attempts
to transfer its laws to these subjects now under
discussion. We can indeed understand that har-
mony proceeds from the intervals between sounds,
of which diverse combinations produce a corre-

1 Which is the centre of the earth. We have here an antici-
pation of the law, by which all terrestrial bodies gravitate toward
the earth’s centre. The cosmogony here sketched is more fully
drawn out in Scipio’s Dream.

32 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

sponding diversity of harmonies; but I do not see
how the position of the limbs and organs and the
conformation of body without soul can create har-
mony. But he, learned as he really is, may well
leave these matters to his master Aristotle, and
confine himself to the teaching of music. That is a
good rule which is prescribed in the Greek proverb,

‘* Let each man ply the art which best he knows.” 2

We may also throw entirely out of question the
fortuitous concourse of single smooth and round
atoms, which yet Democritus supposes to have ac-
quired by their combination heat, and breath, and
the properties of animal life. But the soul which,
if it belongs to the four elements from which all
things are said to have their being, consists of air
ignited (as I perceive to be very decidedly the opin-
ion of Panaetius), must of necessity rise into the
higher regions of space; for air and fire have no
downward tendency, and always ascend. Thus if
they are dissipated, they are so at a height far above
the earth; or if they remain and preserve their
primitive condition, they must of necessity be borne
up to heaven, breaking through this thick and dense
air nearest to the earth; for the soul is warmer, or
rather more intensely hot, than this air which I
have called thick and dense, as we may learn from
the fact that our bodies, made of the earthly ele-
ment, are heated by the ardor of the soul.

1 The converse of the familiar proverb, Ne sutor supra crepidam.

On the Contempt of Death. 33

19. Still farther, the soul can the more easily

escape from and break through this lower air of |
which I have repeatedly spoken, inasmuch as there |

is nothing possessed of greater velocity than the
soul, no speed that can compare with the speed of
the soul. If it remains uncorrupt and like itself,
it must needs be borne upward with so strong an
impulse as to pierce and part this entire lower
heaven in which clouds, showers and winds gather,
and which is made moist and dark by exhalations
from the earth. When the soul has transcended
this region, it comes into the contact and recogni-
tion of a nature like its own; it alights on fires
in which buoyant air and tempered sun-heat are
blended, and aims no loftier flight. Having then
attained a buoyancy and warmth like its own sub-
stance, as if poised by balanced weights, it moves
on neither side; and it has reached at length its
natural abode, when it has penetrated to that which
is like itself, in which, lacking nothing, it will be
fed and sustained by the same food with which the
stars are sustained and fed. Now since we are
wont to be inflamed by the torches of bodily cray-
ing to various kinds of desires, and are stirred to a
more fervent heat because we emulate those who
possess what we want to have, we shall assuredly
be happy when, our bodies left behind, we shall be
rid equally of desires and of emulation; and what)
we now do when released from cares, so that we |

can examine and investigate things that we want
38

34 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

to know, we shall then do much more freely, and
shall wholly devote ourselves to contemplation and
research. This must be so; for there is in our
minds an insatiable desire to behold the truth, and
the very confines of the region where our flight will
end will impart at once the greater desire to know
heavenly things and the easier attainment of such
knowledge. It was this beauty of the heavens as
seen even on the earth that called into being what
Theophrastus terms the national and hereditary
philosophy,! which is kindled by the desire for
knowledge. And those, indeed, will have the high-
est enjoyment of it in heaven, who while inhabit-
ing this world were encompassed by darkness, yet
sought to penetrate it by the mind’s keen vision.
20. If those think that they have accomplished
something of importance, who have seen the mouth
of the Pontus, and the narrow passage through
which sailed the ship named Argo because

‘**In her the Argive heroes, chosen men,
Ploughed the salt sea to seek the golden fleece,”

or who have beheld the straits of the Ocean
‘* Where the swift wave parts Libya and Europe,”

what may we imagine the spectacle to be, when we
can behold the whole earth, — at once its site, form
and circumference, and all its habitable regions,

1 Physics, or natural philosophy, first cultivated by Thales,
lying at the basis of the systems of not a few of the Greek philos-
ophers, and ignored by hardly any of them.

QR CAahur \S iro yur. wr ven | ey AKA 1
: et oie

BAK ce : vr SOS FA 4 Cc kK Ane
chica ae Gury ee eau

« dealec

On the Contempt of Death. 35

and then again, those parts of it that remain uncul-

tivated on account of excessive cold or heat? In,

our present state, it is not with our eyes that we
behold what we see, nor does any one of the senses
reside in the body; but—as not only adepts in
natural science, but equally physicians who have
examined the human body with its interior parts
opened and exposed to view, assert — there are, so
to speak, certain paths bored through from the seat
of the soul to the eyes, to the ears, to the nostrils.
Therefore it is that often, when hindered by being
absorbed in thought or by some morbid affection,
we neither see nor hear, though both the eyes and

the ears are open and in a healthy state, so that.
it may be readily inferred that it is the soul that

sees and hears, and not those parts which are like |
windows of the soul, but through which the mind |

can perceive nothing unless it be actively present.
Again, how is it that with the same mind we com-
prehend things the most utterly unlike, as color,
taste, warmth, smell, sound, which the soul could
never learn from the five messengers, unless all
their reports were brought to it, and it alone were
the judge of all? These things however will be
perceived much more distinctly and clearly when

the free soul shall have arrived at the goal to which |

nature points the way. For now, indeed, although
these passages open to the soul from the body have
been fashioned by nature with the most exquisite
skill, yet they are somehow obstructed by concrete

36 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

material substances ; but when there shall be noth-
ing but soul, there will be nothing to hinder our
perceiving the nature and the qualities of every
_ object.

21. I might, indeed, were it desirable, tell at
great length how many, how various, how grand
will be the scenes placed before the soul in the
heavenly regions. When I think of these things I
cannot help often marvelling at the absurdity ? of
some philosophers,® who admire the study of natural

1 Henry More must have had this discussion in view when he
wrote the following quaint stanzas : —

‘* Like to a light fast locked in lanthorn dark,
Whereby by night our wary steps we guide
In shabby streets, and dirty channels mark ;
Some weaker rays from the black top do glide,
And flusher streams perhaps through the horny side.
But when we ’ve passed the peril of the way,
Arrived at home, and laid that case aside,
The naked light how clearly doth it ray,
And spread its joyful beams as bright as summer’s day !

‘Even so, the soul in this contracted state,
Confined to these straight instruments of sense,
More dull and narrowly doth operate ;
At this hole hears, the sight must ray from thence,
Here tastes, there smells. But when she’s gone from hence,
Like naked lamp she is one shining sphere,
And round about has perfect cognoscence
Whaite’er in her horizon doth appear ;
She is one orb of sense, all eye, all airy ear.”’

2 Latin, insolentiam, which literally means unusualness, and
may be fitly used of anything abnormal no less than of what is

commonly called insolence.
8 The Epicureans.

On the Contempt of Death. — 37

science, and render thanks with expressions of joy
to its first.discoverer and teacher, reverencing him
as a god, because they have been freed by him from
the severest tyranny, from unceasing terror, from
fear by day and by night. From what terror?
From what fear? What old woman is so far de-
mented as to fear what you perhaps might have
dreaded, if you had been entirely ignorant of natu-
ral science, —
‘* Te lofty temples by the Acheron,
The pallid forms that wander on its banks,
The clouds and darkness ever resting there ?”

Is it not shameful for a philosopher to boast that
he is not afraid of these things, and that he has
ascertained that they are false? It may thus be
seen how discerning they are by nature, if they
would have believed these things had they not
been taught to the contrary. But I know not what
great good it has done them to learn that when the
time of death comes they will utterly perish. If
this be the case (and I now say nothing against it),
what is there in such a prospect to be rejoiced
in or gloried over? I indeed find no valid objec-
tion to the opinion of Pythagoras and Plato, Even |
if Plato gave no reasons for his belief —see how |
much confidence I have in the man—he would |
break down my opposition by his authority alone;
but he brings forward so many reasons as to.
make it perfectly obvious that he is not only

1 Thales,
et NS (y

\ ‘ \ } ( ~ ¥ 3
VO Ww onallOutw Qi Alon = abet

}
‘ q 2 VAT \ “Y ‘\ J 2 \ *\ xt
\n , qa, nnn Tolar, |), ‘O44 Grectare

aaa \ C4 bh »
i \

4

38 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

fully persuaded himself, but desirous of convincing
others.

22. But there are many who strenuously main-
| tain the opposite opinion, and doom souls to death
as if they were convicted of a capital crime; nor do
they give any reason why the eternal existence of
/souls seems incredible to them, except that they

_ cannot understand or imagine what sort of a being
the soul is without the body, —as if, forsooth, they
| understood what is the nature, shape, size, location
of the soul while in the body, so that could they
now behold collectively all that is in man, the soul
would fall under their view, or else would be so
subtile as to elude their inspection. I would ask
those who say that they cannot understand the soul
without the body, to consider what they understand
the soul to be in the body. To me, indeed, when
I look into the nature of the soul there is greater
difficulty and obscurity in imagining what sort of
being the soul is, while it is in the body, as in a
home not its own, than when it shall have gone
forth and come into the free heaven as into its own
proper home. It must be borne in mind that if we
are incapable of understanding the nature of what
we have never seen, we can form no idea of God
himself and of the divine soul which has no body.
Dicaearchus, indeed, and Aristoxenus, because they
found it difficult to understand the being and na-
ture of the soul, said that there was no soul at all.
Undoubtedly it is the highest possible exercise of

On the Contempt of Death. 39

our powers for the soul itself to see the soul, and

this is the peculiar meaning of the precept of Apollo |
in which he admonishes every one to know himself;

for he does not, I suppose, bid us to know our

limbs, or stature, or form. We are not bodies, nor

am I, while I am saying these things to you, talk-

ing to your body. When, therefore, the oracle says, |
“ Know thyself,”! it says “Know thy soul.” It is_

what your soul does that you do. Unless the |

knowledge of the soul were a divine endowment,
this precept would not have been given by any
soul of more than ordinary acuteness of discern-
ment. That it is ascribed to a god implies that it
is possible to know one’s self. Even if the soul
does not know the nature of the soul, tell me, I
pray you, need it therefore be ignorant of its own
existence? Of its own movements? It is the
movements of the soul that form the subject of
the reasoning of Plato in the Phaedrus, as drawn
out under the name of Socrates, which I have also
quoted in the Sixth Book of my Republic?

23. “That which is ever in motion is eternal ;
but that which imparts motion to aught else, and
is at the same time moved by any foreign sub-
stance, must of necessity with the end of motion
have the end of life. That only which moves itself,

1 The tradition is that this precept was one of three inscribed
by Chilon the Lacedaemonian on the wall of the temple at Delphi.
Hence it came to be ascribed to the god of the temple.

2 In Scipio’s Dream.

40 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

because it is never deserted by itself, never ceases
to move; while to other things that are moved this
is the fountain, this the beginning,! of motion. But
the beginning has no origin; for from the beginning
all things spring, while it cannot itself be born from

aught else, since that would not be a beginning

which derived its birth from any source except
itself. But if it never begins to be, it surely never
ceases to be. For the beginning, once extinguished,
can neither be re-born from any other being, nor
create anything from itself, if it be indeed neces-
sary that all things should spring from a beginning.
Thus it is that the beginning of motion is that
which is self-moving. But that which is self-mov-
ing can neither be born nor die. Were it to die,
the whole heavens would collapse and all nature
stand still, nor could it find any force by which a
first impulse could be given to motion. Since then
it is clearly evident that whatever is self-moving is
eternal, who is there who can deny that this nature
belongs to souls? For whatever is moved by im-
pulse from without is soulless; but whatever has a
soul is stirred by a movement interior and its own.

. Now this is the peculiar nature and power of the

|
:

soul, which, if it is the only one of all things that
is always self-moved, certainly was not born, and
is eternal.”? Although all plebeian philosophers —

1 Latin, principium, which has beginning for its primitive
meaning, and is Cicero’s rendering of Plato’s dpx7.
2 The past eternity of the soul is, as it appears in this extract,

On the Contempt of Death. 41

for so those who dissent from Plato and Socrates
and from that school seem not unfitly termed —
unite in the endeavor, they will not only never
make so graceful an explanation of anything, but
will not even understand with what subtile skill
the conclusion of this argument is reached. The
soul, then, is conscious of motion, and with this
consciousness it is at the same time conscious that
it is moved by force not from without, but its own ;
nor is it possible that it can ever be deserted by
itself. Hence its eternity is proved, unless you
have some answer to this reasoning.

A, I have easily prevented any objection from
coming into my mind, I regard this opinion with so
much favor.

24. M. Let me ask, do you attach less weight to
those arguments which prove that there are certain
divine elements in men’s souls? As to these, if I
saw how they could be born, I could see also how
they might die. For as to blood, bile, phlegm,
bones, nerves, veins, in fine, as to the entire form
of the limbs and the whole body, I think that I can
tell whence they were put together and how they
were made. Even as to the soul itself, if there’
were nothing in it but the principle of vitality, I
should suppose the life of man sustained by nature,

the basis of Plato’s reasoning in behalf of immortality. That he |
believed the soul to be immortal we cannot doubt; but his argu-
ments evidently flowed from his belief rather than his belief from |
his arguments.

hans

42 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

\like that of the vine or the tree; for we say that
they live. So too, if the soul of man had nothing
in it but desire or fear, it would have this in com-
mon with the beasts. But it has, in the first place,
memory, and a boundless memory of innumerable
things, which Plato, indeed, regards as the recol-
lection of a former life; for in the book entitled
Meno, Socrates asks a little boy some geometri-
cal questions about the dimensions of the square.
These the boy answers as any child might; but by
questions easily framed on an ascending scale he
gradually reaches in his answers the position that
he would have occupied if he had studied geometry.
From this Socrates infers that to learn is merely
to recollect. This subject he explains with much
greater precision in his discourse on the very day
of his death; for he there maintains that a man
who seems entirely destitute of culture, and yet
gives suitable answers to one who questions him,
shows that he is not then learning what he knows,
but is recognizing these things as he recalls them
to memory ; nor, according to him, could it be pos-
sible that even from early childhood we could have
intuitions 1— the Greeks call them évvo/as ?— of so
many and so important things sown and as it were

sealed in our souls, unless the soul before it entered

“Pl Latin, notiones.
« |. 2’Evvod literally means thought, or whatever is in the mind.

| Plato uses it in the sense of intwition, and I have accordingly em-
‘ployed that term as here the proper rendering of notiones.

On the Contempt of Death. 43

the body were well versed in the knowledge of,
things. Since, as Plato constantly maintains, noth-
ing that begins and ceases to be really exists, and
the only actual existence is what he terms idéav}
and we call species, the soul, while shut up in the
body, as he thinks, cannot acquire the knowledge of
these ideas or species, but brings the knowledge
of them into this earthly life, so that we need not
be surprised at its knowing so many things. These
elements of previous knowledge the soul does‘ not |
see with perfect clearness, when it suddenly mi-
grates into a dwelling so unwonted and in so
disturbed a condition; but when it becomes self- |
collected and refreshed, it remembers and recognizes
them. To learn, then, is merely to recollect. But
I am all the more amazed at memory. For what
is the faculty by which we remember? What is
its power? Whence does it spring? I am not
concerned to know how great a memory Simonides?

1 'Tdéa literally means a sight, or an object perceived by the ,
organs of sight. Thence it comes to mean what is apprehended
by the inward vision ; thence what is seen only by the mind’s
eye ; thence, species, or general terms, which according to Plato
and the realists have an actual existence, while the nominalists
regard them as names and nothing more. The meaning of this |
sentence is, that the soul, while in the body, which in the proper |
sense of existence does not really exist, becomes subject to the
limitations of the body, and thus cannot acquire the knowledge of |
ideas, or species, or really existing things, but must of necessity |
possess this knowledge solely by recollection.

2 He is said to have invented some artificial system of
mnemonics,

44 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

is said to have had, or Theodectes? or Cineas?
whom Pyrrhus sent as an ambassador to the Sen-
ate, or, more recently, Charmadas,? or Metrodorus
of Scepsis * who died but a little while ago, or my
friend Hortensius.6 Iam speaking of the memory
common to mankind, and especially of the memory
of those who are proficients in any one of the higher
departments of learning or art, of whom it is diffi-
cult to say how much of mind they may have, so
much do they owe to memory.

25. To what does our discussion lead? I think
it possible to understand what this power of memory

1 It was said that he could repeat any number of verses, word
for word, on hearing them once.

2 It is related of him that on the day after his arrival at Rome
he was able to salute every member of the Senate and of the
equestrian order by name.

3 In the De Oratore Cicero speaks of having seen him at Athens.
He used, perhaps invented, a mnemonic system, which has been
repeatedly imitated down to the present day, in which one ar-
ranges in his thought, it may be on the walls, floor and ceiling
of an apartment, a series of images or pictures, and in order to
remember a series of facts, events or ideas, connects them in

_ thought seriatim with these successive images. Cicero says that

Charmadas never lost the remembrance of anything thus commit-
ted to memory.

* He was still living at Scepsis, in Asia Minor, when the De
Oratore was written. He was also remarkable for his always suc-
cessful use of a mnemonic system like that of Charmadas.

5 The great orator, Cicero’s rival rather than friend. It was
related of him that on one occasion, challenged to a trial of mem-
ory, he sat through a whole day at an auction-sale, and at the
close rehearsed without a mistake the goods sold, the prices, and

| the names of the buyers.

On the Contempt of Death. 45

is, and whence it comes. It certainly does not be-
long to heart, or blood, or brain, or atoms. Whether
it may be air or fire I know not; and I am not
ashamed, like those who deny that there is a soul,
to confess my ignorance of what I do not know.
But if as to any other matter not perfectly plain I
could make a positive assertion, I could swear that
the soul, if it be either air or fire, is divine; for I
appeal to you whether such an immense power of
memory seems to you either sown in or compounded
from the earth under these cloudy and misty heav-
ens. If you do not see what this faculty is, you
see of what sort it is, or if not that, you certainly

—

see how great it is. What then? Can we imagine |

that there is in the soul room for stowage into
which the things that we remember are poured as
into a vessel? That indeed is absurd; for what
can be the bottom, or what the shape of such a

soul, or what its entire capacity? Or can we sup- |
pose that the soul receives impressions as wax does, |
and that memory consists in the vestiges of the |
things thus stamped upon the mind? What can |
the vestiges of words be, or of things themselves?

Then too, what space is large enough to have so
many impressions made upon it? To pass to
another point, what is the power of searching out
hidden things, which is called invention and ex-
cogitation? Does it seem to you to be composed of

an earthy and mortal and perishable nature? Who ©

first gave all things their names, which Pythagoras

46 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

regarded as the work of unequalled wisdom? Or
who assembled scattered men together, and brought
them into the life of society? Or who comprised
the sounds of the human voice, which seem infinite
in number, in a few written characters? Or who
marked out the courses, the relative movements,
the laws of the wandering stars? All these were
great men; but greater still were they who invented
agriculture, raiment, houses, the modes of decent
living, the means of defence against wild beasts,
by whose agency men, tamed and refined, have
gradually passed from the arts essential to life
to those of the more elegant type. For now we
derive great pleasure through the ears from the
discovery and modulation of musical tones of
widely various nature; and we look up with
intelligent admiration to the stars, both to those
which always hold the same place in the heavens,
and to those that are wandering in name, though
not in fact. The soul that understands all their
circuits and motions proves itself a soul like that
of. him who created them in the heavens. For
when Archimedes combined in his artificial sphere
the motions of the moon, the sun and the five
planets, he accomplished the same thing with
Plato’s god in the Zitmaeus, who made the uni-
verse, in one cycle of revolution comprehending
motions differing most widely as to velocity. If
in the universe this could not be done without
a god, no more could Archimedes without a god-

On the Contempt of Death. 47

derived genius have imitated the same motions in
his planetarium.}

26. To me, indeed, none of these more honored
and renowned pursuits of men seem to lack a divine
power, so that I cannot imagine a poet producing
verse of grand import and perfect rhythm without
some heavenly inbreathing of the mind, or elo-
quence flowing in iigisounding words and fruitful
thoughts without more than earthly impulse. Phi-

~losophy, too, mother of all arts, — what else is it
than, as Plato terms it, a gift, @ an invention of the
gods? This led men first to the worship of the
gods, then to those mutual rights that are inherent
in human society, then to modesty and magnanim-
ity; and at the same time it dispelled darkness
from. the soul as from the eyes, so that we could
see all things, above, beneath, beginning, end, and
middle. This which effects so many and so great
things is evidently a divine power. For what is
the memory of things and of words? What, still
further, is invention? Certainly that than which
nothing greater can be conceived of ina god. For
I do not think that the gods rejoice in ambrosia
or nectar, or in Juventas? filling their cups; nor do |
I believe Homer when he says that Ganymede was |
stolen for his beauty to become Jupiter’s cupbearer.

1 Of this planetarium there remains no detailed description ;
but from what we learn of it, it must have revolved by machinery
like that of the modern orrery.

2 An alias for Hebe.

4 \
\on Wr Ortevrrna Wor ond (Wscrbaty oakh

|
|

A. tae erat )-\
\ewokst U Youd (Numan ron A. ak bexn oder’ - +
> \

48 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

This was no sufficient reason for inflicting such
a wrong on Laomedon. Homer in these fictions
transferred to the gods what belongs to man. I
would rather that he had transferred divine things
to us. What are the things divine? To be strong,
to be wise, to invent, to remember. Therefore the
soul which, as I say, is divine, Euripides even dares
to calla god. Indeed, if God is either air or fire,
the soul of man is the same; for the celestial na-
ture is free from the elements of earth and water,
and the human soul equally lacks them both. But
if there is the fifth nature first introduced into phi-
losophy by Aristotle, this is the nature alike of gods
and of souls.

27. To this last opinion I gave expression in my
book entitled Consolation! “No earthly origin can
be found for souls; for there is in souls nothing
that is mixed or compounded, or that seems to be
of earthly birth or fabrication, nor indeed anything
that partakes of the nature of water, or of air, or of

fire. For in these elements there is nothing that
has the power of memory, mind, thought, nothing
that can keep its hold on the past, foresee the future,
and comprehend the present,— properties which are
exclusively divine,— nor can any source be found
whence they can come, unless they come from God.
The soul, then, has a certain nature and power of

1 Consolatio, —a book written by Cicero for his own consola-
tion after the death of his daughter. It is lost, except so far as
the author himself gives fragments of it in his other writings.

On the Contempt of Death. 49

its own, distinct from these natures within our fa-
miliar knowledge. Thus whatever that is, which
feels, which knows, which lives, which has an inte-
rior principle of life, is heavenly and divine, and
must therefore of necessity be eternal. Nor can |
the God whom we understand be understood except
as mind, unbound and free, separate from all mortal |
admixture, perceiving and moving all things, and |
itself endowed with the power of perpetual motion.”
28. Of this order of being, and of the same,
nature with that of the gods, is the human mind.
Where then is that mind, or how may it be de-
scribed ?. Where is yours, and how may it be
described? Can you say? If I have not all the
means for understanding it which I might wish to
have, will you not permit me to use such as I pos-
sess? The soul carmmnot see itself; but, like the
eye, the soul, not seeing itself, sees other things.
It does not, you say (a matter of small concern),
see its own form,—perhaps not, yet it may; we
may leave this out of the question — it certainly
does see, as its own, sagacity, memory, motion, |
celerity. These are great, divine, eternal. How
the soul looks, or where it lives, there is no need of
asking. When we behold, first, the beauty and
brightness of the heavens,— then their revolution
faster than we can think, — then the alternation of
day and night, and the fourfold change of seasons,
adapted to the ripening of the harvest and the

healthful condition of our bodies,—the sun, the
4

50 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

ruler and guide of all,—the moon, whose light
waxes and wanes as if to mark and designate our
religious festivals,|— then in the same sphere, with
its twelve divisions, the five planets? borne along,
keeping with the utmost precision their unchang-
ing orbits, though with different velocities, — then
this earthly globe, projecting from the ocean, fixed
in the centre of the entire universe, habitable and
cultivated in two opposite zones, the one lying
toward
‘*The polar Wain, whence the fierce northern blast

Heaps in vast gelid piles the driven snow ; ”
the other in the south, unknown to us, called by
the Greeks avr/y@ova ;* the rest of the world un-
cultivated, while where we live, in fitting season,

**The heavens shine, the trees put forth their leaves,

The joy-dispensing vine its clusters ripens,

The trees bend low their heavy-laden boughs,

With harvest wealth the yellow grain-fields teem,

The fountains gush, and grass the meadows clothes,”
—then the abundant supply of domestic animals,
some for food, some for field-work, some for draught,
some to furnish clothing, —and man himself framed

1 The lunar month, as distinguished from the month of the
calendar, has in all ages and countries been largely recognized in
the adjustment of religious festivals, as it is now in determining
‘the Passover or Easter, which to a considerable extent governs
| the ecclesiastical year, Jewish and Christian,

2 Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn.

8 Literally, the opposite region, corresponding to our anglicized

Greek word antipodes,

On the Contempt of Death. 51

as if to contemplate the heavens and the powers
above and to worship the gods, —and all land and
sea submissive to man’s service, — when we discern)
these things, and more beside than we can number, |
can we doubt that there presides over them some.
creator, if, as Plato thinks, they began to be, or if,|
as Aristotle maintains, they were from eternity,
some ruler of a system so vast and so munificent ?
So, though you see not the mind of man, as you see
not God, yet as you recognize God from his works,
so would I bid you to recognize the divine power
of the human mind from its memory of things,
from its inventive capacity, from its swiftness of |
motion, from all the beauty of its virtue.

29. Where then is it? I think that it is in,
the head, and I can give reasons for so thinking.
But, waiving the question where the soul is, it is
certainly within you. What is its nature? Pecu-
liar, I think, and its own. But admit that it con-
sists of air or of fire, —it is a matter that has no
bearing on our discussion. Consider this alone, —
As you know God, although you know neither his
dwelling nor his countenance, so you ought to know
your own soul, even if you do not know its habita-
tion or its form. We so far know the soul that,
unless we are utterly stupid! in our conceptions of
natural science, we are sure that in souls there is
nothing mixed, compounded, joined together, com-
pacted, double. Since this is so, the soul cannot

1 Latin, plumbei, literally, leaden.

52 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

| be separated, or divided, or torn apart, or drawn in

sunder, and therefore cannot die; for death is, so to
speak, the disuniting, dividing and separating of
those parts which before death were somehow held
together. By these and similar reasons Socrates
was induced to dispense with the services of an
advocate in his capital trial, and to omit all appeal
to the mercy of his judges, before whom, under the
inspiration, not of pride, but of true greatness of
mind, he uttered himself with freedom and _ firm-
ness ; and on the last day of his life he discoursed
largely on immortality. So too, when a few days
before, he might have been easily released from
confinement, he rejected the opportunity, and when
the fatal cup was ready to be put into his hand, he
so spake that he seemed as one not about to be
forced to die, but on the point of ascending to
heaven.

30. He believed and taught that there were two
ways and a double course for souls on leaving the
body, — that for those who had contaminated them-
selves by the vices to which men are addicted, had
given themselves up entirely to sensual lusts, and,
blinded by them, had become defiled in private life
by habits of gross profligacy, and for those who
had incurred inexpiable guilt by plotting against
their country, there was a devious road, leading far
from the company of the gods; while those who
had preserved their integrity and chastity, had de-
rived the least possible contagion from the body,

On the Contempt of Death. 53

had always kept themselves. independent of it, and |

in human bodies had imitated the life of the gods,
had opened for them an easy return to those from
whom they came. Therefore he says that all good
and wise men should be like the swans, which, con-
secrated to Apollo, not without reason, but because
they seem to have the power of divination, and
foreseeing how much of good there is in death, die
with songs and joy. Nor could any one doubt
this, unless the same thing should befall us when
earnestly meditating on the soul which happens to
those who in looking intently at the setting sun
lose it altogether from sight. In like manner the
eye of the mind in profound introspection some-
times becomes dull, and for that reason we relax
the intensity of contemplation. Thus doubting,
looking around on every side, hesitating, in, dread
of what may be adverse, our reasoning on these
themes is tossed to and fro like a ship on the vast
ocean. These things are old, and from the Greeks.
But in our own time Cato! departed from life as if
he rejoiced to have found a reason for dying. The
god who rules within us forbids us to go hence
without his command; but when that god himself

1 Cato Uticensis. Cicero in the De Offciis, I. § 31, justifies;
Cato’s suicide on the ground of his massiveness of character,
which made it impossible for him to look upon the face of a.
tyrant, but says that for a man of less weight of character it
would have been unjustifiable. The Stoics, after the example of
their founder, Zeno, generally regarded suicide as a right, or even
as a duty, under irretrievable calamity.

int h «A ‘ . i : \
kus a Wards, UX urn whectimre, NOMclonn, nuutt
\ .

o

Gann, swe \ Urn Gertmaraw W noXt Ww wary W-
}

}
\ ‘ r
DWhiacd Qe are \ntnwTk * Xx Ww.

54 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

gives good reason for so doing, as of old to Socra-
tes of late to Cato, often to many, the wise man
will rejoice to go forth from this darkness into that
light. He will not have broken the bonds of his
prison ; for the laws forbid it. But as if released
by a magistrate or some legitimate authority, he
will have gone forth as summoned and set free by
God. Indeed, as Socrates says, the entire life of
philosophers is a meditation on death.

31. For what else are we doing when we sepa-
| rate the soul from pleasure, that is, from the body,
from the management of property, which is the
minister and servant of the body, from public
charge, from business of every kind? What, I
ask, are we then doing, unless we are calling the
soul to itself, forcing it into its own society, and —
chief of all—leading it away from the body? But
separating the soul from the body is nothing else
| than learning to die. This, even while we remain
on earth, will be like the life of heaven; and when,
| released from these bonds, we shall be borne thither,
our souls will be the less delayed on their way. For
‘those who have always lived in the fetters of the

1 Cicero is wrong in classing Socrates with Cato as a suicide.
| Socrates could, indeed, have saved his life; but he was legally
condemned, and might fittingly have regarded it as wrong to

evade even an unrighteous sentence pronounced by competent
authority. His case is much more nearly parallel to that of those
Christian martyrs who have preferred being the victims of right-
ful authority wrongfully exercised, to saving life by means not
strictly lawful.

On the Contempt of Death. 55

body, even when they are released, make slower
progress, like those who have been for many years
bound with iron chains. When we shall have
come to heaven, then at length shall we live. For
this life, indeed, is death, and if I chose, I could
make lamentation over it.

A, You have lamented sufficiently over it in
your Consolation, which when I read I desire noth-
ing else save to leave these earthly things, but much
more in hearing what you have now said.

M. The time will come, and speedily indeed, and ;
alike whether you hold back or are in haste; for life Neos
flies. But death is so far from being the evil that it aivas.
seemed to you a little while ago, that I apprehend,
not that there is nothing else that may not be an

evil, but rather that there is no other good, if indeed)! \\ \ba:
we are going to be gods, or to live with the gods. | 2 ne
‘A. What matters it, which of the two will be our yu g ai
condition ?
Le ot

M. There are those present who are not of my
opinion; but I will never let you go from the sound
of my voice in a state of mind in which death can
for any reason seem to you an evil.

A. How can it so seem when I know what I
have heard from you?

M. How can it, do you ask? There come
crowds of those who hold the contrary opinion.
Not only the Epicureans, whom indeed I do not
despise ;4 but somehow men of superior learning

1 Latin, non despicio. Probably ironical; for the Epicureans

56 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

in general hold my belief in contempt; while my
favorite author, Dicaearchus, has argued with great
acuteness against this immortality of souls. He
wrote three books, called Lesbiacs because the scene
of the Dialogues that they contain is laid at Myti-
lene, in which he aims to show that souls are mor-
tal. But the Stoics grant us an extended lease of
life, as the crows have. They say that souls will
live long,! but not forever.

32. Will you not then hear why, if those who
deny the immortality of the soul are in the right,
death still is not to be reckoned among the evils ?

A, As you please. But no one shall drive me
from the hope of immortality.

M. This indeed is to your credit, but one ought
not to be over-confident on any subject; for even
on matters that are comparatively clear we are
often moved by the conclusion of some skilfully
managed argument, and afterward yield our ground

_and change our opinion, and there is certainly some
_ obscurity in the subject now in hand. Let us then

|

be armed, in case our ground should be assailed.

A, You are in the right, no doubt; but I will
take care that nothing of this kind shall happen
to me.

M. Is there then any reason for not dismissing
are contrasted with the men of superior learning. Non respicio
is a reading of the opposite sense, and expresses Cicero’s actual
opinion of the Epicureans ; but though received by some editors,
it rests on very slight authority.

1 Till the destruction by fire of the now existing universe.

On the Contempt of Death. 57

my friends,! the Stoics? I mean those who think
that souls live after leaving the body, but not
forever.

A, We certainly need not trouble ourselves about
those who admit what is the most difficult of all
to believe, that the soul can survive without the
body, yet do not concede what is not only easy of
belief, but follows as a consequence of their admis-
sion; namely, that when the soul has long lived in
its separate state it cannot die.

M. Your objection is sound. The matter is as
you say. Can we then agree with Panaetius
wherein he differs from his master Plato? He
constantly calls Plato divine, supremely wise, the
holiest of men, the Homer. of philosophers, but
rejects this one belief of his as to the immortality
of the soul. His reasoning is, that whatever is
born must die, and that souls are born, as appears
from the resemblance of children to their parents,
which is evident in mind no less than in body.
He gives yet another argument. Nothing can suf-

fer pain that is not also liable to disease; whatever |

can become diseased will die; souls suffer pain, —
therefore they die.
33. These arguments can be answered; for they

1 Latin, amicos nostros, which I render my friends rather than
our friends, because Cicero was really, in most particulars, more
of a Stoic than of an Academic, and he always speaks of the Stoic
philosophy and its teachers with both familiarity and reverence,
while he is in the constant habit of using the plural of the first
person instead of the singular.

58 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

; come from one who does not know that when the
| immortality of souls is spoken of, it is affirmed of
_ the mind, which is always free from every disturb-
ing emotion, not of those parts of the man in which
sickness, angry passions and lusts have their field,
and which his opponent regards as separated and
shut off from the mind. As for the likeness of chil-
dren to parents, it is seen in beasts, whose souls are
destitute of reason. But in men the likeness exists
chiefly in the conformation of the body, and it is, in-
deed, a matter of great importance in what sorts of
bodies souls are quartered; for many things proceed-
ing from the body give keenness to the mind, and
many things from the same source make it dull.
Aristotle, forsooth, says that all men of genius are of
melancholic temperament; so that I might not be
sorry if my own temperament were of a less lively
type. He names many instances, and as if it were
an undoubted fact, he adduces a reason forit. But
if those things that are born in the body have so
great an influence on the habit of the mind —and
it is these, whatever they are, that create the like-
ness — the resemblance between parent and child
is no proof that souls are born. I will not dwell
on the cases of non-resemblance. Yet I should
be glad if Panaetius were here, as he lived in the
family of Africanus. I should like to ask him
which of his family the grandson of the brother of

1 Or, a bilious temperament. Melancholy, by its derivation,
means black bile.

On the Contempt of Death. 59

Africanus! resembled, so like his father in face, in
life so like the most abandoned men that he might
easily have been taken for the worst of them all.
Whom did the grandson of Publius Crassus,? that
wise and eloquent and eminent man, resemble ?
The same question may be asked about the grand-
sons and the sons of many other distinguished men
whom there is no need of naming. But what are
we about? Have we forgotten that we proposed,
when we had said enough concerning immortality,
to show that, even were souls to die, there is no
evil in death ?

A. I had not forgotten it; but I readily suffer
you, while talking about eternity, to wander from
your plan.

34, M. I see that you look high, and want to
migrate to heaven.

A. I hope that this may be my lot. But sup-
pose that, as the philosophers whom you have
mamed think, souls do not remain in being after
death, — if this be so, it seems to me that we suffer
loss in being deprived of the hope of a happier life.

1 Quintus Fabius Maximus, a man of unsurpassed vileness and
profligacy, and so notoriously infamous that the city praetor would
not suffer him to administer his father’s estate.

2 Publius Licinius Crassus Dives, known principally for his
prodigality. Inheriting great wealth, he early became a bankrupt.
The contrast with his grandfather was all the greater because
the latter had proposed and carried through a much-approved
sumptuary law to prevent extravagance and gluttony in and at
festive entertainments.

60 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

M. Yet, in truth, what evil comes to us in that
case? For suppose that the soul dies as the body
does, is there therefore any pain, or any feeling at
all, in the body after death? No one says that there
is. Though Epicurus accuses Democritus of saying
so, the disciples of Democritus deny it. Nor can
any feeling remain in the soul; for it is nowhere.
Where then is the evil, since beside body and soul
there is no third substance? Is it that the depar-
ture of the soul from the body does not take place
without pain? Admitting this to be the case, how
slight is the pain! But I think that there is none.
In most cases death occurs without the conscious-
ness of dying, in some with pleasure ; and however
it may be, the whole of dying is of comparatively
little importance, for it is momentary. What gives
pain, even agony, is the departure from all the
goods that belong to life. Consider whether it
might not be said with greater truth, from all the
evils. Yet why should I now make lamentation
over human life, as I might with truth and right ?

When my aim is to show that we cannot anticipate
any misery after death, why need I make life even
more wretched by mourning over it? I have done
this in the book in which I gave myself all the
consolation that I could. If then we want to know
‘the truth, death takes us from evil, not from good.
Indeed this proposition was maintained by Hege-
_sias, the Cyrenaic philosopher, with such a wealth
of argument, that Ptolemy is said to have prohib-

On the Contempt of Death. 61

ited him from lecturing in the schools of philoso-)
phy, because many of his hearers committed suicide.
There is, too, an epigram of Callimachus on Cleom- |
brotus of Ambracia, who, as the poet says, without
having encountered anything adverse, threw him-
self into the sea after reading one of Plato’s books.
The book of Hegesias to which I referred is ’Azo-
Kaptepov,; in which a man who is starving himself
to death is arrested in his purpose by his friends,
_ whom he answers by enumerating the discomforts
of human life. I might do the same, but not so
thoroughly as he who thinks life not worth living
for any one. Not to mention others, is it expedient
for me to live? Deprived as I am of the comforts
and adornments both of home and of public life,
certainly, if I had died before I lost them all, death
would have removed me from evil, not from good.
35. Take the case, then, of one who has nothing
evil in his lot, and has received no wound from
Fortune, — Metellus, for instance, with his four
honored sons; Priam, with his fifty, seventeen of

them by his lawful wife. Fortune had equal power («<0
over both of them; she exercised it in the case of

one. Metellus was placed on the funeral pile by

a multitude of sons, daughters, grandsons, grand- ~

daughters; Priam, bereaved of all his children, and
fleeing to the altar, was slain by the hand of an
enemy. If he had died while his sons were living
and his kingdom safe,

1 The self-starver.

62 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

‘*Tn all the splendor of barbaric wealth,

With fretted ceilings, and with towering walls,” }
would he have departed from good, or from evil ?
From good, it would certainly have seemed. But it
surely would have been better for him; for then we
should not have had the mournful strain,

**T saw in flames the palace and the city,

The death of Priam in the holy shrine,

Jove’s altar foully sprinkled with his blood,” 4
as if at that time anything better could have hap-
pened to him than the stroke by which he died.
Now if he had died at an earlier time, nothing at
all of this kind would have befallen him ; but when
he did die, what he lost was the consciousness of
evils. My friend Pompey, when he was severely
ill at Neapolis, seemed to fare prosperously. On
his recovery the Neapolitans wore crowns, so did
the people of Puteoli, and public congratulations
came from the neighboring towns. It was, indeed,
a foolish fashion, a Greek way of doing things; yet
it betokened his good fortune. Now if he had died
at that time, would he have departed from good
things, or from evil? Certainly, from wretchedness.
For in that case he would not have made war against
his father-in-law; he would not have commenced
hostilities without due preparation; he would not
have abandoned his home ; he would not have fled
‘from Italy; he would not have lost his army and
‘fallen defenceless into the hands and upon the

1 These poetical quotations are from the Andromache of Ennius.

On the Contempt of Death. 63

swords of slaves; his children would not have been
blotted out of being; all that he had would not
have come into the possession of his conquerors.
Had he died then, he would have passed away in
the fulness of prosperity. By the prolonging of his
life, how many, how great, how incredible calami-
ties was he doomed to bear!

36. These things are escaped by death, even
though they might not have happened, because they

may happen; but men are not wont to think that
such things can befall them. Every one hopes for |

himself the fortune of Metellus, just as if there were
more fortunate than unhappy persons, or there were

something worthy of reliance in human affairs, or it |

were wiser to hope than to fear. But grant that
men are deprived of good things by death, do the
dead therefore want! the comforts of life, and are
they made miserable by that want? This is what
is implied in saying that the dead are unhappy.
But can he who does not exist want anything?
Want is a sad word; but there lies under it the
meaning : — he had, he has not, — he desires, — he
craves,—he needs. Herein consists the discomfort
of him who is in want. He wants eyes; blindness
is annoying. He wants children; bereavement is

1 The reasoning of this section turns entirely on the word carco
and its inflections, which in every instance I have rendered want.
Of the several English definitions of the Latin word, this, I think,
is the only one that would bear the precise treatment here given
to careo.

64 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

wretchedness. This is so among the living. But
of the dead no one wants, not only the comforts of
life, but life itself. I am speaking of the dead,
who, as we are now supposing, do not exist. As
for us who do exist, though we have neither horns
nor wings, does any one say that we want them ?
Certainly not. But why not? Because when you
do not have what is fit for you neither by custom
nor by nature, you do not want it, though you are
conscious of not having it. This argument should
be urged again and again, it being established be-
yond a doubt that, if souls are mortal, there must
be so entire a destruction of being in death, that
there is not the least suspicion of consciousness
remaining. This then being well determined and
settled, we must ascertain precisely what it is to
want, lest there may lurk some error in the use of
the word. To want, then, means to be destitute of
that which you desire to have. Desire is included
in the signification of want, unless when the word
is employed in an entirely different sense, as you
might use it about a fever. In this other meaning
one is, indeed, said to want what he has not and is
conscious of not having, yet is very willing to dis-
pense with. Ordinarily we do not speak of want-
ing an evil; nor would this be a subject for regret.
We speak of wanting a good, which want is an evil.
But a living man does not want a good unless he
needs it. Yet in the case of a living man, I should
be understood were I to say that you want a king-

On the Contempt of Death. 65

dom. But this could not be said of you with strict
accuracy, though it might have been properly said
of Tarquin after he had been expelled from his
kingdom. The term cannot be used at all of a dead
‘person; for want can be affirmed only of a being
that is conscious, and a dead person has no con-
sciousness, and therefore is not capable of want.

37. But what reason have we for philosophizing
in this matter, when we see that it is hardly in
need of philosophical treatment? How often have
not only our commanders, but even whole armies,
rushed to certain death! But if death had been
feared, Brutus would not have fallen in battle to
prevent the return of the tyrant whom he himself
had expelled; nor would the elder Decius in fight-
ing with the Latins, his son with the Etruscans,
his grandson with Pyrrhus, have exposed them-
selves to the weapons of the enemy; nor would
Spain have seen in the same war two Scipios fall-
ing for their country ; nor would Cannae have wit-
_ nessed the death of Paullus and Geminus, Venusia
that of Marcellus, Litana that of Albinus, Lucania
that of Gracchus. Is any one of these men wretched
to-day? No; nor have they been so since they
drew their last breath. Nor can any one be miser-
able when deprived of consciousness. Do you say
that the very absence of consciousness is sad? It
would be sad if it implied want. But since it is
perfectly plain that nothing can exist in him who

himself does not exist, what can there be sad in
5

66 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

him who neither wants nor is conscious? At the
risk of too frequent repetition, I will say that here}

_ is the reason of the shrinking of the soul for fear of

death. If one will sufficiently consider what is

_ clearer than the light, that when soul and body are

consumed, the entire living being blotted out, and
a complete destruction effected, that which was en-
dowed with life becomes nothing, —he will plainly
see that there is no difference between the Centaur
who never existed and king Agamemnon, and that
Marcus Camillus makes no more account of the
present civil war than I do of the capture of Rome
in his time.

Why then would Camillus have grieved, had he
thought that what is taking place now would take
place nearly three hundred and fifty years after his

- ||time? And why should I feel sorrow if I supposed

that ten thousand years hence another race will
have possession of our city? Because so great is
the love of country, that we measure it not by our

«| consciousness, but by the country’s own well-being.

38. Therefore death, which is daily impending
from unforeseen casualties, and on account of the
shortness of life can never be very remote, does not
deter the wise man from consulting for the endur-
ing good of his country and of those under his
special charge, or from feeling that the posterity of
which he will have no knowledge belongs to him.

1 In the feeling that the dead retain some kind or Pre a3 of
consciousness.

] ~ —" Lf : Lt
Sorte Vraeth T Te ett ts A hs .

On the Contempt of Death. 67

Thus he who regards the soul as mortal may plan for
eternity, not from the desire of a fame of which he
may be unconscious, but from the impulse of virtue,
which fame must of necessity follow, even though |
it be not held in view. The order of nature is such
that as our birth brings to us the beginning, so may
death bring the end of all things. As nothing be-
longed to us before we were born, so nothing will
belong to us after we are dead. What evil can
there be in this, since death appertains neither to
the living nor to the dead? The latter do not
exist; it does not yet touch the former. Those
who make light of death represent it as very closely
analogous to sleep, as if one would be willing to
live ninety years, on condition that after sixty he
should sleep the rest of the time. Not even the
swine would crave this; much less.a human being.
Endymion is fabled to have gone to sleep, I know
not when, on Mount Latmus in Caria, and, I think,
is not yet awake. Do you suppose that he cares
when the Moon is in trouble} though she is said to
have put him to sleep that she might kiss him in
his sleep? What can he care, not being even con-
scious?) You have in sleep the image of death;
you daily clothe yourself with it; and can you
doubt whether there may not be unconsciousness in
death, when you see that there is no consciousness ?
in its image ?

1 On the wane, or in eclipse.

2 Latin, sensus, which may mean either feeling or consciousness,

68 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

39. Away then with the almost anile folly that
it is a wretched thing to die before one’s time.
What time, forsooth? The appointed time of Na-
ture? But Nature has given us the use of life, as
we might have that of money, with no day fixed
for repayment. What reason for complaint is there,
then, if she demands it at her pleasure? It was’
on that condition that we received it. Those who

, make such complaint admit that when a little child

dies the event should be borne with equanimity,
nay, if it be only an infant in the cradle, that there
is no reason for regret. Yet Nature has in this
case been the opposite of indulgent in demanding
what she had given. The reply is that the child

. |has not had a taste of the sweetness of life, while

one somewhat older is already anticipating the great
things which he has begun to enjoy. But as in
other matters it is thought better to obtain a part
than none at all, why not as to life? Yet Callima-
chus says with truth that Priam had wept oftener
than Troilus. But those are regarded as specially
fortunate who die full of years. Why? I think
that there are some old men whose life would grow
more pleasant were it prolonged. There certainly

tor} is nothing that a man enjoys more than he does

wisdom, and this old age assuredly brings, if it de-
prives one of other things. But what lifetime is

With either definition the analogy is lame, as both feeling and
consciousness continue in sleep, though only in part, or not at

all, corresponding to things as they are.

On the Contempt of Death. 69

really long? or what is there appertaining to man
that can be termed long? Does not old age,

** Close following on boyhood and on youth,
Arrest men’s steps before they think it near?”

But because we have nothing beyond, we call the
life of the old long. All things that Nature gives
us are either long or short in proportion to their
utmost allotted time. On the River Hypanis, which \
flows from some part of Europe into the Euxine |
Sea, Aristotle says that there is a certain species of |
insects that live only a day. One of them that.
died at the eighth hour of the day would have died
at an advanced age; one of them that died at sun-
set, especially at the summer solstice, would have
been decrepit. If we compare our life with eter-
nity, we shall find ourselves of almost as brief a
being as those insects.

40. Let us then despise all these absurdities (for
why should I give a less severe name to such light-
mindedness ?) and let us consider the entire capa-
city of happy living as consisting in strength and

1 Pliny quotes and reaffirms Aristotle’s story about these in-
sects. He says that at the summer solstice the River Hypanis
(now Bog) brings down membranous particles looking like grape-
stones, from which issue quadripedal insects that live but for a
day. Cuvier thinks that the description probably designates the
genus Phryganea, which comprehends some peculiarly short-lived
species. They are not, however, confined to the River Bog.
Aelian describes under the name of ephemera insects of still
shorter lives, that are bred in wine, and when the flask is opened,
fly out and die immediately.

70 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

greatness of mind, in looking with contempt and
scorn on the vicissitudes of human life, and in the
practice of every virtue. For now we are. prone to
be made effeminate by the most enervating habits
of thought, so that if death comes earlier than the
astrologers! predicted it, we feel as if we were
robbed of certain great goods that were ours of
right, and were both mocked and defrauded. But
if we are, while living, held in suspense, in torture,
distressed by expectation and longing,— by the
immortal gods, how pleasant should be the journey,
which once finished, there can be no more care or
anxiety! How much delight do I take in Theram-
enes!? What loftiness of soul do we see in him!

|For though his story makes us weep, yet there is

nothing to be pitied in the death of this illustrious
man, who, when cast into prison by the thirty ty-
rants, drank the poison eagerly, as if he were thirsty,

1 Latin, Chaldaecorum. The earliest astrologers were from the
remote East, and the name of Chaldaci was therefore given to all
who professed to predict human fortunes by consulting the stars.
In Cicero’s time faith in astrology was very rife, and astrologers
were in great credit, and were consulted even by wise and emi-
nent men.

2 The record of the life of Theramenes is less honorable than
that of his death. That he performed great services for his coun-
try there can be no doubt, and with some historians he is the
subject of unqualified eulogy ; but he seems to have been some-
thing less than a rigidly upright man, if not a traitor, He con-
sented to be one of the thirty, as his eulogists say, in order to
check their violence. If so, his conduct was like that of a man
who should ship on board a piratical vessel in order to fe
murder with robbery.

On the Contempt of Death. 71

and so dashed the dregs from the cup that they fell
with an echo, on hearing which he said laughing,
*T drink this to the health of fair Critias,” — the
man who had been his greatest enemy; for the
Greeks in their banquets always name the guest to
whom they are going to pass the cup. This excel-
lent man joked with his last breath, when his vital
organs were already in the grasp of death; and to
the man to whose health he had drunk the poison
his was a true prophecy of the death which ensued
very soon afterward. Who would praise this calm-
ness of a very great soul in dying, if he thought
death an evil? A few years later Socrates goes
into the same prison and drinks the same cup, by a
crime of the judges like that of the tyrants who
doomed Theramenes to death. What then does
Socrates say in the speech which, as reported by
Plato, he made before the judges after he had
received the death-sentence ?
41. “I have a strong hope,” he says, “that it
will be happy for me, judges, that I am doomed to
death. For one of two things must of necessity be
the case, — either that death takes away conscious-
ness altogether, or that at death one migrates from
these regions to some other place. But if con-
sciousness is blotted out, and death is like that
sleep which, unbroken by dreams, sometimes ‘gives |
us supremely peaceful rest, ye good gods, whist | gain Bus ~ Reeve
it is to die! How many days can be found - pref eer A i
erable to such a night, which if the whole coming pou »*-

af a %, Na \ By
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lens © ‘ \~* \Chier®

cae

72 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

eternity shall resemble, who can be happier than I?
But if it is true, as it is said, that death is migra-
tion to regions inhabited by those who have de-
parted from life, this is even much more happy for
me. To escape from those who want to be ac-
counted as judges, to come to those who can with
truth be called judges, Minos, Rhadamanthus, Aea-
cus, Triptolemus, and to meet those who have lived
uprightly and in good faith,—can such a change
of abode seem to you a small affair? Then again,
how much do you think it is worth to have the
‘ opportunity of conversing with Orpheus, Musaeus,
Homer, Hesiod? Indeed, were it possible, I would
gladly die often, were I sure of finding these things
of which I speak. How should I delight to meet
Palamedes,! Ajax,? and others who were unrighte-
ously condemned! I should also make trial of the
wisdom of that greatest king of his time who led
the largest army to Troy, and: of Ulysses, and of
Sisyphus, nor should I be condemned to death for
searching into the truth*® as I did here. Nor ought

1 There were several mutually inconsistent stories about the

death of Palamedes. The one referred to here doubtless is, that _

Ulysses, whose feigned insanity Palamedes had detected, in re-
venge induced him to descend into a well to search for hidden
treasures, and that Ulysses and Diomedes stoned him there.

2 The most prevalent, not to say authentic, myth about Ajax
was that he died by his own hand. Reference, however, is evi-
dently here made to some other story.

3 Latin, guwm haec exquirerem. But the haec, as it seems to
me, cannot refer to anything in this sentence or in this immedi-
ate connection. It refers undoubtedly to the opinions and inves-

li doa ll ma

On the Contempt of Death. 73

you among the judges who voted for my acquittal) —
to have any fear of death; for nothing evil can be-
fall any good man, whether living or dead. The
immortal gods will never neglect aught that con-
cerns his welfare. This has not happened to me,
by chance. Nor have I any cause of complaint
against my accusers or those who voted for my con-
demnation, unless it be that they thought that they
were doing me harm.” In this way he continued
to speak. But there is nothing better than his
close. “ But it is time,” he says, “to go hence, —I
to die, you to live on. Which is to be preferred)
the immortal gods know; I do not believe that any/||
man knows.” |
42. I verily would much rather have this soul ,
than the fortunes of all those who passed judgment |
on it. But what he says that no one save the gods),
knows, whether life or death is better, he him-
self knows; for he has already spoken of death as
the better of the two. Yet he maintained to the)
last his custom of refraining from positive assertion!
on any subject. But let us hold fast to the princi-
ple that nothing which is appointed by nature for
all is an evil, and let us bear it in mind, too, that if
death be an evil, it is an eternal evil; for a wretched
life seems to find its end in death, while if death is
miserable, there can be no end to the misery of
life. But why should I commemorate Socrates or |

tigations which formed the substance of the capital charge against
Socrates.

(\ r = * rd
A _ <
\ic Gone a Rox ad (Arak GAA = UWS

; . :
M, ¥

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74 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

| Theramenes, men of surpassing fame for virtue and

| wisdom? I might speak of a certain Lacedaemo-

nian whose name tradition has not preserved, who
so despised death, that when under a capital sen-
tence he was taken to execution by the magistrates
with a glad and gleeful countenance, and some
enemy asked him, “Do you scorn the laws of Ly-
curgus?” he answered, “I indeed render the most
hearty thanks to him who fined me with a penalty
which I can discharge without borrowing or paying
interest.” Oh, man worthy of Sparta! who had so
great a soul that it seems as if he must have been
condemned without guilt. Our republic has borne
more such men than we can number. But why
name commanders and those in high station, when
Cato! writes that whole legions have often gone
with alacrity to places whence they had no expec-
tation of returning? With like greatness of soul
the Lacedaemonians fell at Thermopylae, on whom
Simonides wrote :—

** At Sparta, stranger, tell that here we lie
In loyal service to our fatherland.”

What does their leader Leonidas say? “Go on,
Lacedaemonians, with a brave soul. To-day, per-
chance, we shall sup in the underworld.” This was
a brave race, while the laws of Lycurgus were in
full force. One of them, when a Persian enemy in
a boastful strain said, “Our darts and arrows will

1 In the Origines,

On the Contempt of Death. ’ 75

be so thick that you cannot see the sun,” replied, |
“We shall fight all the better in the shade.” I am
speaking of men. What a noble woman was that
Lacedaemonian mother, who had sent her son to
battle, and hearing that he had been slain, said, “I
gave birth to him that he might be one who would |
not hesitate to meet death for his country !”

43. The Spartans, it must be admitted, were a
brave and hardy race.» The training of citizens
under the rule of the State has great efficacy. But |
do we not in like manner admire Theodorus of
Cyrene, a philosopher of no mean reputation, who
said when King Lysimachus threatened to have him
erucified, “Make these horrible threats, I beg you,
to your purple-clad courtiers ; to Theodorus it is of
no concern whether he rots in the ground or in the
air?” . This saying of his reminds me that mention
ought to be made of interment and sepulture; nor
is it a difficult subject, especially when we consider
what was said a little while ago about unconscious-
ness in death. How Socrates felt about it appears
in the book concerning his death? of which I have
said so much. When he had been discoursing on
the immortality of:souls, and the moment of his
death was now close at hand, Crito asked him
how he would wish to be buried, and he replied,
“T have indeed, my friends, employed much labor
in vain; forI. have not convinced my. friend
Crito that I am going to fly away hence, and to

1 The Phacdo,

76 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

leave nothing of myself here. Nevertheless, Crito,
if you can follow me, or can find me anywhere,
bury me as you please. But, believe me, no one
of you will overtake me when I shall have gone
hence.” This was well said, at once giving the
desired liberty to his friend, and showing his own
entire unconcern about anything of the kind. Di-
ogenes was of harder make, and of the same opinion,
which he, as a Cynic, expressed in a coarser way;
giving orders that his body should be thrown out
unburied. When his friends asked, “Thrown to
the birds and the wild beasts?” he replied, “ By
no means; put my staff by me, that I may drive
them away.” “How can you do it?” said they,
“You will have no consciousness.” He rejoined,
“What harm then can it do me to be torn by
beasts, if I know nothing about it?” Anaxagoras

_ expressed himself happily when he was dying at

_Lampsacus. His friends asked him whether, if any-

thing happened} he would wish to be carried to
Clazomene, his native place, and he replied, “ There
is no need of it; it is as far to the underworld from
one place as from another.” On this whole sub-
ject of burial one thing is to be kept in mind, —
that burial belongs to the body alone, whether the
soul dies or continues to live. But it is very plain,
that if the soul either is blotted out or passes away,
no consciousness remains in the body.

1 Latin, si quid accidisset, literally corresponding to our accus-
tomed euphemism in speaking of death.

—

On the Contempt of Death. 77

44. But we are constantly encountering errors in
this matter! Achilles drags Hector bound to his
chariot. He thinks, I suppose, that Hector is lacer-
ated, and feels the suffering thus occasioned. He
therefore imagines that he is avenging himself on
his enemy. In the tragedy we hear one? mourning
over this intensest extremity of woe : —

** What Hector suffered I beheld ; I saw him
Dragged in the dust behind the chariot-wheels.”
What Hector? Or how long will he be Hector?
Attius*® comes nearer the truth, and according to
him Achilles, on one occasion at least, understands
the case as it really is.
“‘T gave the body ; Hector I removed.”

It was not Hector that you dragged, Achilles, but
the body that had been Hector’s. So, another per-
sonage of the drama springs from the ground, who
will not let his mother sleep.!

1 Latin, sed plena errorum sunt omnia. Omnia of course in-
cludes everything that is read, or heard in the theatre.

2 Latin, t/a, referring to some known personage in a tragedy
then extant, probably the Andromache of Ennius, in which case
tlla may denote Andromache. One manuscript of some authority
reads, instead of illa, Eccuba, i. e. Hecuba.

3 The greater part of such fragments of Attius as are extant
are preserved by Cicero.

* This is from the tragedy of Iliona, by Pacuvius. The story
is that Iliona married Polymnester, king of the Thracian Cher-
sonesus, and adopted her brother Polydorus, giving him the place
in her household belonging to her own son, whom she called Poly-
dorus. The Greeks, wishing to exterminate the race of Priam,
hired Polymnester to kill Polydorus, and he killed his own son,

° eat

78 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.
‘Mother, from quiet-and unpitying sleep
I pray thee wake and rise, thy son to bury.”

When these verses are sung in slow and mournful
strains, filling the whole theatre with sadness, it is
hard not to account the unburied as wretched.

“‘ Haste to my rescue ere the birds of prey
* And wild beasts rend my body, limb from limb.”

He fears that he may not be able to make good use

of his limbs if they are lacerated. He has no such

fear if they are burned.

‘**Nor let what’s left of me, my fleshless bones,
Foul with black gore, be rudely torn asunder.”

I do not understand what he dreads when he pours
forth to the accompaniment of the flute these high-
sounding iambics! We must then keep it in mind
that there is nothing to be cared for after death,
even though many persons do wreak vengeance on
their enemies after they are dead. In some per-
fectly intelligible? verses of Ennius* Thyestes heaps
curses on Atreus, chief of all, hoping that he may
perish by shipwreck,—a hard fate indeed; for such
a death is not without severe suffering. But what
follows is utterly devoid of sense :—

“‘Transfixed on crags that beetle o’er the main,
Sprinkling the rocks with blood, and disembowelled,”

supposing him to be the desired victim. The real Polydorus and
Iliona took vengeance on him by first putting his eyes out, and then
killing him. 1 Latin, bonos septenarios.

2 Latin, luculentis sane versibus,

® In his tragedy of Thyestes.

On the Contempt of Death. 79

Not the rocks themselves are more entirely desti-
tute of feeling than the man “transfixed on crags,”
on whom Thyestes here imagines that he is invok-

ing torture. But this is even more exceedingly |

foolish : —
** Nor may his body find a sepulchre,
A port where it can rest from bitter woe.”

You see how full of error all this is. He thinks
that there is a port for the body, and that the sep-
ulchre is a place of rest for the dead. Pelops was
very much to blame for not instructing his son, and
teaching him how far any specific object or event
was worth his caring for it.

45. But why need I take notice of the errors of
individuals, when the various errors of entire na-
tions may be passed in review? The Ecyptians
embalm their dead and keep them in their houses ;
the Persians preserve theirs by smearing them with
wax, that they may last as long as possible. It is
the custom of the Magi not to bury the bodies of
the members of their order till they have first been
torn by beasts. In Hyrcania the common people
keep dogs that are public property, the principal
men, dogs of their own (and we know that they are
a noble breed),! and each person provides according
to his ability for being torn by dogs, regarding this

1 The Hyrcanian dogs were probably at once the most intelli-
gent and the bravest of their species. Aelian says that they were
trained for military service, and that no Hyrcanian went into
battle without his dog.

Onn

80 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

as the best mode of sepulture. Chrysippus, in his
curious antiquarian researches, has collected many
other modes of disposing of the dead, some of
which are so offensive that the tongue and pen re-
fuse and dread toname them. As to ourselves, this
whole subject may be treated as one of utter indif-
ference ; but with regard to our friends we should
not neglect it, though all the while we, the surviv-
ors, are aware that the bodies of the dead have no
consciousness. Let the living take care that due
concessions be made to custom and general opinion,
yet with the understanding that these matters are
of no concern to the dead. But undoubtedly death
is met with the greatest tranquillity of soul, when
closing life can find comfort in its own good desert.
No one has had a short life, who has completed a
career of perfect virtue. I myself have seen many
occasions when death would have been timely?
Would to heaven that this had been my fortune;
for no good has come to me by the delay. The
duties of life had been fully performed; the con-
‘flict with fortune remained. If then reason does
not suffice to produce an absolute indifference to
death, the experience of life may make us feel that
we have lived long enough and too long; for though

1 A Stoic philosopher celebrated for his various erudition, and
for the number and variety of his writings. It is said that he was
versed in all departments of learning except mathematics and the
exact sciences. He left more than seven hundred works, not a

word of which remains extant.
2 His exile, the death of his daughter, the ruin of the republic.

;
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On the Contempt of Death. 81

the dead may be unconscious, they do not in their
unconsciousness lack their own peculiar property
of merit and fame,— though as to fame, there is
nothing in it that should make it an object of
desire ; but it follows virtue like its shadow.

46. The approving verdict of the multitude, when
they pass it, is indeed much more to their credit
than for the happiness of those whom they praise.
Yet, whatever sense may be given to my words, I
cannot say that Lycurgus and Solon lack fame for
their legislative and administrative wisdom, or The-
mistocles and Epaminondas for their valor in war.
For sooner will Neptune submerge Salamis itself
than the trophies there won, and the Boeotian
Leuctra will be obliterated before the glory of the
battle of Leuctra shall cease. Much later still shall
fame abandon Curius, Fabricius, Calatinus, the two
Scipios, the two Africani, Maximus, Marcellus, Paul-
lus, Cato, Laelius, and others more than I can num-
ber, whose likeness he who shall in some measure
have attained, estimating it not by popular applause,
but by the genuine praise of good men, if the occa-
sion demands, will with a trusting soul march on
to death, in which we have seen that there is either

supreme good or no evil. Moreover, he will even
prefer to die while in full prosperity ; for the accu-|_. : \

mulation of good things cannot give pleasure equal |.
to the pain of losing them. This, it seems to me,
was meant by that utterance of the Lacedaemonian

who, when Diagoras of Rhodes, himself ennobled as |
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82 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

a victor in the Olympic games, saw his two sons
victors at Olympia, came to the old man and said
‘by way of congratulation, “Die, Diagoras; for you
are not going to ascend to heaven.”! The Greeks
regard these honors as great, and perhaps they place
too high an estimate upon them, or rather they did
then; and he who said this to Diagoras, deeming it
the summit of happiness that three Olympian vic-
tors should have come from one house, thought it
useless for him to remain longer in life, exposed to
‘the caprices of fortune. On this subject I might
have answered you sufficiently, as it seemed to me,
in few words; but I have prolonged my argument
because here is to be found our greatest consolation
in bereavement and sorrow. For we ought to en-
dure with moderation such sorrow as is confined to
ourselves or as we incur on our own account, lest we
seem to love ourselves too well; but it torments us
with unendurable grief to imagine that those of
whom we are bereaved are with any degree of con-
sciousness exposed to the evils which in the com-
mon belief they endure. I wanted for myself to
exterminate this opinion by the roots, and I have
perhaps been too long in so doing.

47. A. You too long? Not indeed for me; for

1 That is, ‘‘ You can rise no higher, and if you live, you may
not keep your present elevation.” Aulus Gellius tells the story
_ differently. He says that Diagoras had three sons, all victors in
| different contests on the same day, and that when they brought

_ their crowns and put them on his head, the old man died in their
embrace.

On the Contempt of Death. 83

the first part of your discourse made me desire
death, while the latter part has made me feel, some-
times that I should not be unwilling, sometimes
that I should not be sorry, to die. But the entire
discourse has brought me to the state of mind in
which it would be impossible for me to account
death as an evil.

M. Do we need then a rhetorical peroration, or
may we now entirely dispense with the rhetorical
art ?

A. You certainly ought not to abandon the art
which you have always adorned, —and, indeed, of
good right; for, to tell the truth, it has adorned
you. But what is your proposed peroration? For
I want to hear it, whatever it is.

M. Philosophers in the schools are wont to cite

the decisions of the immortal gods concerning death, |

—decisions which are not figments of theirs, but
rest on the authority of Herodotus and of not a few
others. Mention may first be made of Cleobis and
Bito, sons of a priestess in Argos.1 When, as was

her wont, she was to be drawn in a chariot to a

solemn and stated sacrifice, it being a considerable
distance from the town to the temple, and the beasts
that should have drawn her not having arrived, the
young men whom I have named stripped off their
clothes, anointed their bodies with oil, and were
yoked to the chariot. The priestess, having arrived
at the temple, thus drawn by her sons, is said to
1 This story is told by Herodotus,

84 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

have prayed to the goddess that for their piety she
would give them the greatest reward that a god
could bestow upon a man. The young men, having
shared the feast with their mother, went to sleep,
and were found dead in the morning. Trophonius
and Agamedes are said to have offered a similar
prayer. After they had built a temple to Apollo at
Delphi, while worshipping the god, they asked of
him no small reward for their care and toil, not
specifying what they craved, but desiring whatever
it was best for man to have. Apollo signified to
‘them that on the third day following he would
grant their request, and on the dawn of that day
they were found dead. This is cited as the decision,
not only of a god, but of him to whom the rest of
the gods had conceded superior power of divination.
48. There is added to these narratives the story
of Silenus, who, when captured by Midas, is said in
recompense for his release to have taught the king
that by far the best thing for man is not to be
‘born; the next best, to die as soon as possible.
This is the sentiment expressed by Euripides in his
Cresphontes : 1 —

** Bewailing strains befit the fated house
Where man is born, and whence he must go forth
To meet the varied ills of human life ;
But friends with sympathetic joy should follow
Him who from toil and pain rests in the grave.”

1 A lost tragedy, of which Varro has preserved some fragments,
and this among the rest.

ae Mii a

_ ee er ae ee

a

On the Contempt of Death. 85

There is something not unlike this in the Consola-
tion’ of Crantor; for he there says that a certain
Elysius of Terina, oppressed with grief for the
death of his son, went to an oracle of the dead? to
inquire what was the cause of so great a calamity,
and received on a tablet these three verses : — |
‘Tn life men wander’ with beclouded mind ;
By fate divine Euthynous dwells4 in death ;
Thus was it better far for him and thee.”
On this and like authority it is maintained that the |
case has been actually decided by the immortal °
gods. Alcidamas indeed, among the most distin-
guished of the earlier rhetoricians, wrote a treatise
even in praise of death, consisting of an enumera-
tion of the evils of human life. His book was defi-
cient in such reasons as philosophers compile with
superior skill; but in richness of diction there was
no lack. The orators represent the far-famed deaths
of those who have sacrificed life for their country

1 The title of this book is epi Iév@ous, On Grief. Cicero made
great use of it in his Consolatio, and also in the third of the Tus-
culan Disputations. Plutarch gives some extracts from it in his )
Consolation to Apollonius.

2 These oracles were places where it was pretended that the |
dead were called up to hold communion with the living. The |
necromancy of our time has had its parallel superstition in almost
every age and country. There is a very close analogy between
the witch of Endor and the medium of the nineteenth century.

8 Latin, errant.

* Latin, potitur. There is an intended contrast between the |
unsettled condition of the living and the permanent habitancy of
the dead. ,

86 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

as not only glorious, but happy. They go back to

_Erechtheus,! whose daughters earnestly craved death
for the life of their fellow-citizens. Then they name
_Codrus, who plunged into the midst of the enemy in
the dress of a servant, lest he might be recognized
by his royal attire, an oracle having announced
that if her king were slain, Athens would conquer. —
They do not omit Menoeceus,? who, in accordance —
with an oracle, freely poured out his blood for his
country. Iphigenia, too, at Aulis, was led to be
sacrificed at her own command, that by her blood
the blood of the enemy might be made to flow.

49. They come down to later time. Harmodius
and Aristogiton are eulogized. Leonidas the Lace-
daemonian and Epaminondas the Theban flourish in —
undecaying fame. The authors that L have quoted
had no knowledge of our fellow-countrymen, whom
it is an arduous labor to enumerate, so many are
they whom we see to have made choice of death
with glory. Yet although this is the case, great
eloquence must be employed, and not only so, a

1 According to one of several mutually incompatible myths,
| the Athenians having killed a son of Poseidon, it was demanded
| of them in expiation that one of the four daughters of Erechtheus,

the king, should be sacrificed. One was drawn by lot, and the
| others fulfilled a previous agreement that if one should die, her —
sisters should die with her.

2 His was a myth that seems to have been copied from that of
-Codrus. According to some authorities Tiresias, according to
| others the Delphian oracle, promised victory to the Thebans, if
' Menoeceus would sacrifice himself.

On the Contempt of Death. 87

weight of authority as if the appeal were made from
some loftier standing ground, to persuade men either
to begin to prefer death, or, at the least, to cease to |
fear it. Nowif that last day leads not to the ex- |
tinction of being, but toa change of place, what is
more desirable? But if it destroys and blots out
being altogether, what is better than to fall asleep
in the midst of the labors of life, and so, closing the
eyes, to be lulled in eternal slumber? If this be
so, Ennius speaks of death more wisely than Solon.
Ennius says : —
‘* Let no one honor me with tears, or make
A lamentation at my funeral.”

But that wise man?! Solon writes : —
‘Let not my death lack tears. Grief to my friends

I fain would leave, as they surround my bier.”
As for ourselves, if such a thing should be that we
should seem bidden by God to depart from life? let
us obey gladly and thankfully, considering ourselves
as released from prison and lightened of our bonds,
that we may either return to the eternal home
which is evidently our own, or may lack all feeling
and all trouble. But if we shall receive no such

1 Solon was on the list of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, and
the aim of the comparison is to bring to view the superior wisdom
of Ennius, Cicero’s favorite poet, who was never termed pre-
eminently wise.

2 What Cicero means to say here is, “If there should ever be
justifiable reason for suicide,” the liberty of which in ail
cases was claimed by the Stoics.

88 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

command, let us still be so disposed in mind that
we may regard that day, so horrible to others, as
fortunate for us, and may reckon among evils noth-
ing that is appointed either by the immortal gods
or by Nature, the mother of all. For we were not
born and created at random and haphazard; but
there was certainly some power which consulted for
the well-being of the human race, and could not
have produced or nourished that which, when it
had filled out its term of labor, should fall in dying
into eternal evil. Rather let us think that we have
a port and a refuge made ready for us, whither we
might well wish to be borne with full sail. Yet
if we, are thrown back on our course by contrary
winds, we must of necessity reach our destination,
though a little later. But can what is necessary

for all be a source of misery to one? You have

my peroration, so that you may not think that any-
thing has been passed over or left out.

A. I am sure that nothing has been omitted, and
indeed this peroration has strengthened me in my
belief.

M. I rejoice that is so. Now let us give some
attention to health; but to-morrow and the rest of
the time that we are together here in the Tusculan
villa, let us discuss subjects of this kind, and espe-
cially those which may lighten our pains, fears and
desires, which is the richest fruit that philosophy
can yield.

BOOK IL
ON BEARING PAIN.

1, NEOPTOLEMUS is made by Ennius in the trag-
edy? to say that he found it necessary to philoso-
phize, but only as to a few things; for as a general
pursuit it gave him no pleasure. I regard it as
necessary for me to cultivate philosophy ; (for what
else can I do, especially now that I have no regular
employment ?) but not, like him, as to a few things.
For in philosophy it is difficult for one to know a
few things, who is not conversant with many or
all? Indeed, the few things can be chosen only
out of many; nor yet will he who has obtained the
knowledge of a few things fail to pursue what still
remains unknown with like zeal. But yet in a busy
career, and in a military life, as that of Neoptole-
mus then was, the few things are often of benefit,
and bear fruit, if not as much as can be reaped from
the entire range of philosophy, yet sufficient to yield
us in some degree occasional relief from desire,

1 A tragedy of which these few words are the only fragment
extant.

2 A truth for all time,—that no man can be successful as a
specialist who is not possessed of a broad general culture.

90 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

or grief, or fear. Thus the discussion which I
lately held in my Tusculan villa seemed to result
in the entire contempt of death, which is of no
little worth in freeing the soul from fear; for he
who fears what cannot be avoided, cannot possibly
live with a quiet mind. But he who has no fear of
death, not only because one must needs die, but
because there is nothing in death to be dreaded,
obtains for himself great help toward a happy life.
Yet I am not unaware that I shall encounter the
earnest opposition of many, which I could avoid
only by writing nothing at all. For if my orations,
in which I meant to satisfy the judgment of the
people at large, — eloquence being a popular talent,
employed with a view to the approval of the hear-
ers,—yet found some who would praise nothing
which they did not feel able to imitate, who as-
signed to good speaking only the limit which they
hoped to reach, and when overwhelmed with the
affluence of thoughts and words, said that they pre-
ferred leanness and baldness to wealth of thought
and richness of diction (whence sprang the so-called
Attic style, which in its true sense was beyond
the comprehension of those who professed to prac-
tise it, who now have become silent, having been
driven by ridicule out of the very courts of justice),
what can I expect, now that I cannot have in the
least degree the countenance and sympathy of the
people, which I was formerly wont to have? For
philosophy is content with the judgment of the

7
:
‘

Se —

On Bearing Pain. - 91

few, purposely shunning the multitude, by which it
is in its turn both suspected and hated, —so that if
one wishes to cast reproach on philosophy as a
whole, he can do so with the approval of the people;
while if he attempts to assail the philosophical
doctrines which I specially advocate, he can derive
great assistance from the teachings of other schools
of philosophy.

2. But I have answered those who heap con-
tumely on all philosophy, in my Hortensius;! while
I think that in my four Books of Academics? I
have drawn out at sufficient length what ought to
be said in behalf of the philosophy of the Academy.
Yet I am so far from not wishing to be written
against, that I very greatly prefer it; for philos-
ophy would never have attained such honor in
Greece, unless it had flourished by means of the
controversies and disputes of the most learned men.
I therefore urge all who can do so to wrest superior
merit in this department from Greece, now in her
decline, and to make it the property of our own
city, as our ancestors by their zeal and industry
transferred hither all the other arts that were desir-
able. Thus while the glory of our orators, raised
from the lowest point, has reached the summit
whence —as. is the law of nature as to almost
everything —it must lapse into senile decay and

1 De Philosophia, — a lost work.

2 An exposition of the philosophy of the New Academy, extant
only in part.

92 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

shortly come to nought, let philosophy in its Latin
garb have its birth at this very time; and let us
give it our aid, and suffer ourselves to be argued
against and refuted. This, to be sure, is borne re-
luctantly by those who are, so to speak, devoted
and consecrated to certain fixed and determinate
opinions, and bound by a necessity which compels
them for consistency’s sake to defend what they do
not heartily approve. On the other hand, we who
seek the probable, and assert of no proposition
anything more than its truthlikeness in our own
view, are ready to refute without obstinacy, and to
be refuted without anger. But if these studies
shall be transferred to our people, we shall no
longer need the Greek libraries,? in which there is
an infinite number of books, on account of the
multitude of writers; for the same things are said
over and over again by many writers, so that
their books are crammed with repetitions. This
indeed will be the case with our people, if many
shall crowd into these studies. But if we can,
let us rouse those who are liberally educated to
philosophize with reason and method, and at the
same time to consult elegance of diction in their
discussions.

3. There is, indeed, a certain class of men who

1 It will be remembered that the disciples of the New Acad-
emy, to which Cicero professed adherence, denied the possibility
of attaining absolute truth, or certitude.

2 When their place shall be supplied by Latin writers.

On Bearing Pain. 93

want to be called philosophers! who are said to
have written many Latin books, which I do not
despise, because I have never read them; but inas-
much as their authors profess to write with neither
precision, nor system, nor elegance, nor ornament,
I omit reading what can give me no pleasure. For
no moderately learned man is ignorant of what
those of that school say and think. If then they
take no pains as to the way of saying it, I do not
understand why they should be read, unless so far
as those of the same opinions read one another.
As, while all, even those who do not agree with
them, or care very little about their opinions, read
Plato and the rest of the Socratic school and their
successors, none but their own disciples ever take
up a book of Epicurus or Metrodorus, so these
Latin writers are read only by those who are in har-
mony with them. But to me it seems fitting that
whatever is committed to writing should be pre-
pared with a view to its being read by all men of
learning; and even if one cannot fully reach this
end, I feel that it should none the less be aimed at.
I therefore have always been pleased with the cus-
tom of the Peripatetic and Academic philosophers,
that of discussing both sides of every question, not
merely because there is no other way of ascertain-

1 Cicero here undoubtedly refers to Amafanius and other Epi-
cureans, who were the earliest writers on philosophy in the Latin
tongue, none of whose writings are preserved, so as to verify or
falsify Cicero’s estimate of their value.

94 . Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

ing what is probable, but because this method fur-
nishes the best exercise for speaking, the opportunity
for which was first made availing by Aristotle
and then by those who followed him. Within my
memory Philo, whom I often heard, used to make
an arrangement at certain times to teach rhetoric,
at other times philosophy. I have been induced
by my friends to adopt this method for the time
that we have spent together at Tusculum. Thus,
having given the forenoon to speaking, as we did
on the previous day, in the afternoon we went
down into the Academy,” in which I will give you
our discussion, not in a narrative form, but, as
nearly as possible, in the very words employed on
either side.

4. Our conversation was thus held while we
were walking, and began somewhat in this way.

A. It is impossible to say how much I was de-
lighted, or rather helped, by your yesterday’s dis-
cussion ; for though I am conscious of never having
been over-desirous of life, yet I sometimes felt a
certain dread and pain in the thought that there
must at one day be an end of its light and a loss
of all its comforts. Believe me, I am so entirely
freed from trouble of this kind, that there is noth-
ing that now seems to me less worth my care.

1 In his public lectures.

2 Cicero had in his Tusculan villa an apartment which he
called Academia, devoted entirely to philosophical lectures and
discussions.

a a

On Bearing Pain. 95

M. This is by no means wonderful; for such is
the work of philosophy. It cures souls, draws off
vain anxieties, confers freedom from desires, drives
away fears. But this efficacy which belongs to it
is not equally availing with all; it accomplishes
the most when it takes hold of a congenial nature.
Not only does Fortune, as the old proverb says,
help the brave; Reason does so still more, by cer-
tain of her precepts, so to speak, intensifying the
force of that which is already brave. Nature, for-
sooth, made you aspiring, and lofty of spirit, and
disposed to look down on human fortunes, and thus
a discourse aimed against the fear of death found
its easy lodgment in so brave a soul. But do you
suppose that these same considerations would be of
avail, save in exceedingly few cases, with the very
men who have thought them out, and reasoned about
them, and committed them to writing? How few
_ philosophers are to be found who are such in char-
acter, so ordered in soul and in life; as reason de-
mands; who regard their teaching not as a display
of knowledge, but as the rule of life; who obey
themselves, and submit to their own decrees! You
see some of them so frivolous and boastful that it
were better if they had remained unlearned, some
greedy of money, some of fame, some the slaves of
lust, so that there is an amazing contrast between
their teaching and their living, which indeed seems
to me in the lowest degree disgraceful. For as
when one who professes to be a grammarian talks

96 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

inelegantly, or when one who wants to be consid-
ered as a musician sings out of time and tune, he
disgraces himself all the more for his failure in
that in which he pretends to be a proficient, so the
philosopher who is faulty in his manner of living
is worthy of the greater infamy, because he fails in
duty of which he desires to be a teacher, and while

professing the art of true living, is delinquent in

the practice of that art.

5. A. If what you say is true, is there not fear
that you may be decking philosophy with a glory
that does not belong to it? For what stronger
proof can there be of its uselessness than that some
accomplished philosophers lead disgraceful lives ?

M. It is no proof at all; for as all cultivated
fields are not harvest-yielding, and as there is no
truth in what Attius says, —

‘** Though seed be sown on unpropitious soil,
It springs and ripens by its innate virtue,”’?
so all cultivated minds do not bear fruit. To con-
tinue the figure: as a field, though fertile, cannot
yield a harvest without cultivation, no more can
the mind without learning; thus each is feeble
without the other. But philosophy is the culture
of the soul. It draws out vices by the root, pre-
pares the mind to receive seed, and commits to it,
and, so to speak, sows in it what, when grown, may
bear the most abundant fruit. Let us go on then

1 Latin, absurde.
2 From the Aéreus of Attius.

ee ae ee

On Bearing Pain. 97

as we began. Name, if you please, the subject
which you wish to hear discussed.

A. I think pain the greatest of all evils.

M. Greater than disgrace ?

A, That indeed I dare not affirm; and yet I
am ashamed to be so soon thrown down from my
position.

M. It would have been a greater shame to have
maintained it; for what is more unworthy than
that anything should seem to you worse than dis-
grace, crime, baseness? To escape these what pain
should be not only not shunned, but voluntarily
sought, endured, welcomed ?

A. So Iam now inclined to think. But if pain
be not indeed the greatest evil, it is certainly an
evil. |
M. Do you not see then how much of the fear-
fulness of pain you have thrown aside on account
of the few words that I have spoken ?

A. I see it plainly ; but I want more.

M. I will attempt to give you more; but I need
on your part a mind not unwilling.

‘A. That you shall have indeed; for as I did yes-
terday, I will now follow Reasom whithersoever she
shall lead me.

6. M. First then I will speak of the weakness of
many philosophers of various schools, of whom the
foremost both in authority and in antiquity, Aris-
tippus, the disciple of Socrates,! did not hesitate to

1 His disciple, but not his follower. He was a luxurious liver,
7

98 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

call pain the greatest of evils. Then to this nerve-
less and womanish opinion Epicurus offered himself
a ready disciple. After him Hieronymus of Rhodes
said that the supreme good implies exemption
from pain, so much of evil did he regard as being
included in pain. Others, with the exception of
Zeno, Aristo and Pyrrho, have taken nearly the
same ground with you, that pain is indeed an evil,

but that there are other things that are worse. Is_

it then true, that Philosophy, the mistress of life,
persists for so many ages in maintaining what
Nature herself and a certain generous feeling of
the virtuous mind so loathe and spurn,} that you
could not regard pain as the greatest evil, but
were driven from that opinion the moment that
the alternative of pain or disgrace was presented ?
What duty, what merit, what honor can be so

great that he who shall have persuaded himself —

that pain is the greatest evil, will incur bodily
pain for its sake? Then again, what ignominy,
what degradation will not one endure to escape
pain, if he shall have determined pain to be the
greatest of evils? Still farther, who is there that
is not miserable, not only in the future when he

shall be weighed down by the utmost severity of

and probably illustrated in his practice the ethical doctrine, so
far as we know first promulgated by him, that actions are morally
indifferent ; having no characteristics of their own as good or evil,
but deriving their character solely from their consequences.

1 Latin, respuit, literally, spits out.

ee

On Bearing Pain. 99

pain, if he thinks it the greatest of evils, but even
in the mere knowledge that such may be his lot?
And who is there to whom this may not happen ?
With this possibility no person whatsoever can be
happy. Metrodorus, indeed, thinks him perfectly
happy whose body is in a good condition, and who
is sure that it will always be so. But who is there
that can be sure of this ?

7. But Epicurus says what seems to have been
designed to provoke laughter; for in one place
he says, “If a wise man is burned or put to tor-
ture” — you expect him to add, it may be, “He
will endure it, he will bear it to the end, he will
not yield to it,” which, by Hercules, would be a
great merit, and worthy of the very Hercules by
whom I swear; but for Epicurus, rough and hard
man as he is, this is not enough ;— “If he shall be
in the bull of Phalaris, he will say, How sweet this
is! How utterly indifferent to me!” Sweet, for-
sooth? Is it too little for one not to find it bitter ?
But the very persons who deny that pain is an evil
are not wont to say that it is sweet for any one to
be tortured. They say that it is vexatious, hard to
bear, annoying, contrary to nature, yet not an evil.
Meanwhile he who calls pain the only evil and the
extreme of all evils, thinks that a wise man will
call it sweet. I do not ask of you that you should
define pain by the same terms by which Epicurus,
a voluptuary, as you know, designates pleasure.
He indeed would have said the same things in the

100 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

bull of Phalaris which he would have said in bed.
I do not aseribe to wisdom such power against
pain. That one be brave in enduring it, is enough
for duty ; I donot ask that he should rejoice in it.
It'is doubtless a sad thing, vexatious, bitter, hostile
to nature, difficult’to be borne and endured: Look
at Philoctetes. We must grant him the liberty of
groaning ; for he has heard Hercules himself howl-
ing on Mount Oeta’ in the greatness of his suf-
ferings. The ‘arrows which Hercules ‘gave him,
therefore, afford him no comfort when

“From viper’s bite the veins imbued with poison

' Throb in the entrails with intensest torture ;”
and so he cries, craving help, and longing to die,

**Oh who will hurl me from the lofty cliff
Into the waves that dash against its base ?
I perish even now ; the burning wound
Consumes my soul in hopeless agony.” 1

‘It seems hard to say that he who is forced to utter
such cries is not suffering evil, and indeed great

evil.
8. But let us Jook at Hercules when broken

down by pain, while by death itself he was seeking

1 These verses are from the tragedy of Philoctetes, by Attius.
Homer simply says that Philoctetes, on his way to Troy, was left
by his followers on the Island of Lemnos because he was wounded
in his foot and disabled by the bite of a snake, and afterward
returned in safety. He was a celebrated archer ; hence the myth
of the arrows given to him by Hercules. He was a frequent sub-
ject of tragedy, and the snake-bite, its occasion and its issue, form
the subject of a great diversity of mutually irreconcilable myths,

ed an eee te et

I all eA I AD et

a

On Bearing Pain, .. 101

immortality.1. What are the words which: Sopho-
cles puts into his lips in the 7rachiniae? When
Dejanira had put upon him the garment that had
been dipped in the Centaur’s, blood, and it stuck
to his entrails, he says: —

‘** What woes unspeakable and past endurance
Have racked my body and my soul tormented !
Not Juno’s wrath? nor vengeful Eurystheus
Could heap such tortures on my suffering frame
As Oeneus’ mad daughter? piles upon me.

She snared me with the fury-woven shirt,
Which, cleaying to my side, my entrails tears,
Draws panting breath from palpitating lungs,
And from my burning veins sucks out the blood.
My body putrifies in noisome gore,

And in this textile plague fast bound, I perish,
No hand of enemy, nor earth-born giant,

Nor bi-formed Centaur with impetuous rush,

By spear or battle-axe has laid me low ;

Nor Grecian force ; nor savage cruelty,

Nor the fierce races among which I journeyed, .
To give them laws, and teach them arts humane, —
A man, by woman’s hand I meanly die.

- 9, * My son,*of thy true fatherhood give proof,. ;
Nor let a mother’s love make void my prayer.

>}, The myth: is: that he. built his own funeral pile, ascended
it, and obtained the services of a shepherd who was passing . by
to light it.

2 She was angry with him from, or‘rather before, his birth, be-
cause Zeus was his father; and the story is that. in his juvenile
assault on, the gods, he wounded .Hera (or Juno), and thus made
her wrath implacable,

3 Dejanira.

* Hyllus, his eldest son by Dejanira, whom Sophocles, in ac-
cordance with the mythical narrative, makes present at his father’s
death, or rather, translation to heaven from the funeral pile.

102 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

With pious hands bring her for my revenge, —
Thus show if she or I prevail with thee.

Behold, my son, have pity on thy father.

Nations shall mourn my fate, that he who quailed not
Before the direst forms of mortal ill

Now like a hapless maiden weeps forlorn, —
Valor till now unconquered, nerveless, powerless.
Come, son, stand by. Thy father’s wretched body
See torn and disembowelled. Look ye all.

And thou, the father of the host of heaven,
Launch upon me thy flaming thunderbolt.

Now creeps the hidden fire through all my bones ;
Now writhe my limbs in agony. Oh hands,

Oh brawny breast, oh arms that never

Of victory failed, strangled in your embrace

The lion of Nemea ceased to breathe ;

By this right hand the Lernean hydra fell ;

To this the Centaur host succumbed in battle ;
This laid in dust the Erymanthian boar ;

This from Tartarean darkness dragged to light
The triple-headed dog that guards its portal ;
This slew the unslumbering dragon by the tree
Where hung the golden apples. Other deeds
Unnumbered bear the record of my prowess,

Nor was a trophy ever taken from me.”

Can we despise pain, when we see even Hercules
suffering so impatiently ?

10. Let us now listen to Aeschylus, who was not
only a poet, but, as we are told, a disciple of Py-
thagoras. How does he make Prometheus bear the
pain inflicted on him for his theft at Lemnos,

** Whence fire was first dispensed for mortal use ?
Prometheus stole it from the forge of Vulcan,

And for his craft, by the decree of Jove,
He paid in full the grievous penalty.” 1

1 These verses are from the Philoctetes of Attius.

On Bearing Pain. 103

Under this sentence, nailed to Caucasus, he says, !—

** Oh heaven-born Titans, partners of my blood,
Behold your brother bound to flinty rocks.
As timid sailors fasten ships by night
With line and anchor when the waves dash high,
So has the son of Saturn nailed me here
By iron-working Vulcan’s power and skill.
These spikes with cruel cunning he has driven
Through flesh and bone into the beetling cliff ;
And in this camp of Furies I must dwell.
Each third day, as it dawns, with fateful wing
Jove’s carrion bird fastens his talons on me,
And fiercely feeds upon my quivering entrails ;
Then with my liver crammed and satiate,
With hideous shriek he takes his flight on high,
And brushes with his tail my trickling blood.
Then as my liver grows he comes again,
And fills and stuffs anew his hateful maw.
Thus feed I still this keeper of my prison,
Whose gluttony is my unceasing woe ;
For, as you see, in adamantine bonds,
I cannot drive the foul bird from my breast.
So on this lonely crag I bear my torment,
Praying for death to close my term of ill,
But far from death the will of Jove repels me.
This ancient doom, through centuries of horror,
Has held me in its grasp since first the snow,
Thawed by the sun-heat on the mountain’s summit,
Coursed down the rugged sides of Caucasus.”

It seems hardly possible not to call such a sufferer

1 These verses are not found in the Prometheus Vinctus, which
was the first of a trilogy, or series of three tragedies, of which the
second and third are lost. The second was entitled ITpounOeds
Avudpevos, i. e. Prometheus loosed or unbound ; and the verses here
quoted would have been entirely in place in one of its opening
scenes.

104 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

miserable; and if we call him miserable, we must
admit that pain is an evil.

11. A. You are thus far on my side; but by and
by I shall know what you have in mind. Mean-
while, whence came these verses?! for I do not
recognize them.

M. I will tell you, by Hercules; for you are in
the right in asking. Do you not see that I have
ample leisure ??

A. What then ?

M. When you were in Athens, you frequented, I
think, the schools of the philosophers.

A. I did, and very gladly.

M. Did you not notice that, though none of them
then were very fluent speakers, yet they always
quoted poetry in their lectures ?

A. Yes, and especially Dionysius the Stoic.

M. You are right. But he repeated verses by
rote, as if they were dictated by some one else, with
neither appropriateness nor elegance. On the other
hand, my friend Philo used to quote a fitting num-
ber of choice poetical passages, and always to the
point. In like manner, since I adopted this style

1 Cicero had said that they were from Aeschylus; but his
interlocutor is made to express his admiration fer their perfect-
ness as a specimen of Latin poetry.. He virtually asks : “* Where
did you find so excellent a Latin: translation?” To which Cicero
replies : ‘‘(By Hercules) I do not wonder that you ask ; I made
it myself.” ;

2 Since I have given up my practice in the courts, and no
longer take an active part in the proceedings of the Senate.

On Bearing Pain. 105

of. senile declamation, as one might call it, I am
fond of making such use of our native poets; and
when they have failed me, I have often translated
from the Greek, so that I might not be forced in
discussions of this sort to employ directly any other
than our own Latin tongue.!. But do you not see
what mischief the poets are doing? They intro-
duce the bravest men as indulging in lamentation.
They make our souls effeminate. Then, too, their
strains are so sweet, that, not. content with reading
them, we even commit them to memory. . Thus the
poets have enhanced the influence of our bad do-
mestic discipline and our easy and luxurious modes
of living, so as to enfeeble all the nerves of courage.
Poets were therefore rightly excluded by Plato from
his ideal commonwealth, since he required there
the highest type of morals and the best. condition
of public affairs... But we, deriving our instruction
from Greece, read and learn these poems even from
boyhood; and this we account as. liberal learning
and culture.

12. But why are we angry with the poets? Phi-
losophers, masters of virtue, have, been found ready

1 In the De Offciis (I. § 31) Cicero ridicules those ‘* who are
perpetually foisting in Greek words,” and his own habit is to
adhere to the Latin always, except when some: single term or
phrase either is needed because it has no Latin equivalent, or
specially craves interpretation. Unless it be in some of his famil-
iar letters, he never quotes a passage from a Greek author in the
way in which pedantic writers and speakers of our own time inter-
lard their English’ with Latin quotations.

106 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

to call pain the greatest of evils. But you, young
man, immediately after expressing yourself thus,
when I asked you whether pain is a greater evil
than disgrace, receded from your opinion at a word.
I put the same question to Epicurus, and he will say
that a moderate degree of pain is a greater evil than
the greatest disgrace, inasmuch as there is no evil
in disgrace, unless it be followed by pain. What
pain then follows Epicurus for making this very
assertion that pain is the greatest of evils, for which
I can look for nothing more deeply disgraceful from
a philosopher? You therefore conceded enough for
me when you replied that disgrace seemed to you
a greater evil than pain; for if you hold fast to this
opinion, you will understand how pain is to be
resisted, nor is it so important a question whether
pain is an evil, as how the soul may be strength-
ened to bear it. The Stoics give paltry reasons
why pain is not an evil, as if the question were
one about a term, not about the thing itself. Why
do you deceive me, Zeno? For I am taken in by
you when you deny that what seems to be the
object of intensest dread is in any degree an evil;
and I want to know how it is that what I regard
as the extreme of misery is not an evil in any wise.
“Nothing,” says he, “is evil except what is base
and vicious.” But I reply, You return to empty
words; for you do not take away the cause of my
uneasiness. I know that wickedness and pain are
not the same thing. Cease to insist on this; but

eT

ee ee |

On Bearing Pain. 107

teach me that it makes no difference to me whether
I have pain or do not have it. “This,” he replies,
“has no bearing on the happiness of life, which
depends on virtue alone; yet still pain is to be
shunned.” Why? “It is annoying, contrary to
nature, difficult to bear, sad, hard.” ?

13. Here we have a multitude of words in which
we may express in many different ways what we
all designate by the one word, “evil.” You barely
define, you do not remove pain when you call it
annoying, contrary to nature, difficult to be borne
or tolerated. You tell the truth indeed; but while
you teach that there is nothing good save what is
tight, nothing evil save what is wrong, one who
makes .such boast in words ought not to succumb
in his conduct. He who thus yields barely wishes
that his words were true instead of teaching that
they are true.? But it is better and more true to
class all things which Nature spurns as evils, all
things which she approves, as among the goods.
This established, and verbal disputes laid aside, that
which those philosophers ? fitly embrace, that which
we call honorable, right, becoming, and which we

1 Some of the Stoic moralists get over, or creep round, the dif-
ficulty here presented, by maintaining that though as to happi-
ness the goods of life are indifferent, their possession and the
absence of pain and of physical evil enable a man to be more
efficiently virtuous. They therefore recognize a secondary order
of goods and evils.

2 Which can be effectively taught only by example.

3 Latin, isti, evidently referring to the Stoics.

108 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

sometimes include under. the general name of vir-
tue, has such paramount excellence that all things
beside which are regarded.as. goods of the body and
of fortune seem very small and paltry, nor is any
evil, nor are all evils, were they brought together
and massed on one spot, to be compared with the
evil of disgrace. Therefore if, as you admitted at
the outset; disgrace is worse than pain, pain is evi-
dently nothing. For so long as it shall seem to
you disgraceful and unworthy of a man to groan, to
wail, to lament, to be broken down, to be unnerved
by pain; so long as the right, dignity, honor shall
be present, and. you, looking steadfastly on them,
shall retain your self-possession, — pain will cer-
tainly yield to virtue, and will become enfeebled
by your resoluteness of soul. Indeed, either ‘there
is no such thing as virtue, or all pain is to be held
in contempt. Will you put on the list of virtues
prudence, without which no virtue can be even
imagined? What then? Will that suffer you to
do anything by which you effect no purpose, and
give yourself trouble in vain?! Or will temper-
ance suffer you to do anything to excess? Or can
justice be held in reverence by a man whom the
power of pain can force to declare what has been
told him in confidence, to betray those whose
secrets are in his keeping, or to leave unperformed
duties incumbent on him? How will you give
account of yourself to courage and its associate

1 To indulge in frwitless lamentation.

On Bearing Pain. 109

virtues, magnanimity, seriousness of purpose, pa-
tience, contempt for the vicissitudes of human for-
tune? While you are beaten down, and prostrate,
and wailing with cries of lamentation, will any one
say to you, “Oh, brave man”? ' Indeed, were you
in that condition, no one would call you even a
man. Courage then must be parted with, or pain
must be buried.

14. Were you to lose one of your Corinthian
vases,! you might have the rest of your furniture
safe; but do you not know that if you shall have
lost one virtue (although virtue cannot be lost), or
I would rather say, if you must confess that you
lack one virtue, you will have no virtue at all?
Can you then call that Philoctetes in the play (for
I would rather take an example other than your-
self) a brave man, ora man of great soul, or patient,
or of a substantial character, or in a position to
despise human fortunes? Certainly he is not brave
who lies on

** A couch bedewed with tears, from which resound
Unceasing tones of querulous complaint,
Groans, sobs, and howls of bitter agony.” ?
I do not deny that pain is pain; else where were
the ‘need of fortitude? But I do say that pain is
subdued by patience, if patience be a real quality;

1 Latin, tuis Corinthiis, probably ‘referring to vases or similar
‘articles of Corinthian bronze, which were exceptionally costly and
precious.

2 Undoubtedly from the tragedy of Philoctetes by Attius.

110 Cicere’s Tusculan Disputations.

and if it be not, why do we lavish praises on phi-
losophy? Or what is there to boast of in its name?
Pain pricks; let it even pierce deep. If you are
without defence, offer your throat to its assault.
But if you are shielded by the Vulcanian armor of
courage, resist ; for unless as a keeper of your own
dignity you make such resistance, courage will
leave and desert you. The laws of the Cretans
indeed, enacted, as the poets say, either by Ju-
piter, or by Minos under Jupiter's inspiration, and
the laws of Lycurgus also, train youth by labo-
rious exercises, by hunting, by running, by endur-
ing hunger and thirst, cold and heat. The Spartan
boys under these laws are so scourged at the altar
as to occasion copious internal bleeding, and some-
times, as I heard when I was at Sparta, are whipped
to death ;1 yet not one of them ever cried out, or
groaned. What then? Are boys capable of this,
and shall not men be? Still farther, does custom
have such force, and shall not reason be of equal
avail ?

15. There is some difference between labor and
pain. They are near kindred, but yet not altogether
alike. Labor is a certain function of either body or
mind, of somewhat grave amount and importance ;

.1 The use of the present tense here refers to things that norm-
ally take place under the laws, not to the condition of things
in Cicero’s own time, when those laws had long been obsolete.
The idiom is the same as if I were to say, ‘‘ Under the Roman

law the son has no rights of property in the lifetime of his
father.”

On Bearing Pain. 111

while pain is a rude disturbance in the body, disa-
greeable to the senses. These two things the Greeks,
whose language is more copious than ours, call by
one name! Thus they call industrious men not
only busy, but painstaking;? we more fitly term
them laborious. For labor is one thing; pain
another. Oh Greece, sometimes poor in words, in
which you always regard yourself as abounding!
It is, I say, one thing to be in pain; another to
labor. When Caius Marius had his varicose veins
lanced, he was in pain; when he 1¢d his army in
a time of intense heat, he labored. Yet there is
a certain likeness between the two; for the habit
of labor makes the endurance of pain the easier.
Therefore those who gave Greece her republican
institutions provided that the bodies of young men
should be strengthened by labor. The Spartans
transferred this same discipline to the women,
who in other cities are hidden within the walls
of their houses and are accustomed to the most
delicate modes of living. The Lacedaemonians
determined that there should be nothing of this
kind —

1 révos. There is really no lack of words to denote pain in
the Greek. It may be sufficient to designate the familiar terms
G&yos and dddvn.

2 pidordv0s, which means both pain-loving and labor-loving.
The words in the text are amantes doloris, which I have rendered
painstaking, simply because pain-loving is not an English term ;
while painstaking is a term closely corresponding to the Greek
idiom under discussion.

112 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

‘¢ Among the Spartan virgins, who delight
In swimming, wrestling, toil, and dust, and sun,
More than in gentler cares of motherhood.” 1
In these toilsome exercises pain sometimes inter-
venes. They are pushed, struck, thrown down ;
they have heavy falls; and labor itself produces a
certain insensibility to pain.

16. As to military service —our own I mean,
not that of the Spartans, whose cohorts? move to
the sound of the flute, and receive no order except
in anapaests— we see, in the first place, whence
our armies derive their name,’ and then, what labor
‘and how great is that of the troops on their march,
as they carry more than half a month’s food, and
carry too whatever they need for use, and carry,
beside, each a stake for a palisade. For our soldiers
no longer reckon shield, sword and helmet as bur-
dens. They say that the implements of. a soldier’s
armor are his limbs, which indeed they carry so

1 These verses are probably from the MJeleager of Attius.. The
last words in the passage are fertilitas barbarica, which some
commentators regard as denoting the rude abundance of barbar-
ism. I am inclined to think, however, that the reference is to
such large families as are ascribed in legend to Danaus, Priam
and other mythical personages of barbaric times and lands.

2 Latin, mora, which, if taken.as a Latin word, would mean
thatthe Spartans move (or moved) slowly, lingeringly, which
does not accord with traditions concerning them. I suppose
mora here to be wopa, the Greek name for a division of the Spar-
tan army, written in Latin letters.

® Exercitus, from exercere, to exercise. This name is played
upon throughout the section, as I have indicated by using exercise,
etc., where I else might have rather employed érain or untrained.

On Bearing Pain. 113

adroitly that, if need be, throwing aside their bur-
dens, they can fight with weapons as freely as if
they were limbs. How much labor is there in the
exercise of the legions! How much in their run-
ning, in their forming in battle array, in their
shouts! By all this their minds are prepared for
wounds in battle. Bring forward an unexercised
soldier of equal spirit, he will seem a mere woman.
Why is there so much difference as we have found
between a new and an old army? The age of the
' new recruits is greatly in their favor; but it is habit
that teaches the soldier to bear labor and to think
lightly of a wound. We indeed often see the
wounded carried out of the ranks, and the new and
unexercised soldier, though but slightly hurt, moans
most shamefully ; while he who has been exercised,
and has grown old in the service, and for that very
reason is the more brave, only asks for one who has
skill enough! to apply a bandage, as Eurypylus in
the play ? says,
** Oh Patroclus, I come to ask your aid

Before the hostile weapon Jays me low.
Unless your greater skill suffice to stanch

1 Latin, medicwm ; but the word cannot here denote a profes-
sional physician or surgeon, as Eurypylus, who is adduced as
illustrating the disposition of a brave man wounded, says that he
cannot get access to a physician.

2 Probably the Achilles of Ennius. The scene is that in the
11th Book of the Ziad, when Patroclus, having been sent by
Achilles to make certain inquiries in the Grecian camp, on his
return finds Eurypylus wounded.

8

114 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

The flowing blood, my life must be the forfeit ;

For wounded men so crowd upon the surgeons

That I can find no entrance to their porch.”
Patroclus replies : —

‘‘ Eurypylus indeed, —a man well exercised,” 1

where so much continuous suffering is endured.

17. See now how little there is that looks like
weeping in his answer,— how he even adduces a
reason why he should bear his fate with equa-
nimity, —

“The man who wields the implements of death,
Should marvel not if they are turned against him.”

Patroclus will, I suppose, lead him away, to put
him to bed, and to bind up his wounds, if indeed
he has the feelings of a man” But in the play I
see in him only the soldier and the patriot; for he
proceeds to ask the wounded man the fortunes of
the day :—

“* Say, do the Greeks sustain themselves in battle ?”

Eurypylus replies :—

** Words have no power to tell the deeds of might
In which I bore my part till I was wounded.
But cease to question me. — Bind up my wounds.”

Yet though Eurypylus bears his sufferings patiently,

1 Latin, hominem exercitum.

2 Latin, si quidem homo esset, which might be rendered, “If
he were indeed a real (and not a merely mythical) character.”
Cicero often speaks of personages in the semi-fabulous days of
Grecian history as probably having never existed.

On Bearing Pain. 115

Aesopus! in taking this part on the stage could
not; but he uttered as one in pain,

** When Hector’s fortune seemed in the ascendant,
And hardly pressed upon our yielding force,”

and the narrative that follows. Thus beyond meas-
ure is the passion for military glory in a brave man.
Shall then the old soldier have this power of en-
durance, and shall a learned and wise man lack it ?
He indeed can bear pain better, and not a little
better. But I am at present speaking only of habit
as formed by exercise, not yet of reason and wis-
dom. Old women will often bear the lack of food
for two or three days. But take food from an
athlete for a single day, he will implore the very
Olympian Jupiter for whose honor? he is in train-
ing, and will cry that he cannot bear it.? Great is
‘the power of habit. Hunters pass the night in the
snow, and suffer themselves to be scorched by heat
on the mountains. Then again, boxers utter no
groan when bruised by the caestus. What shall
we say of those to whom victory in the Olympic
games seems as great an honor as our consulate
used to be? Gladiators too, who are either aban-
doned men or barbarians, — what do they endure!
How much rather will those who. have been well

1 One of the great tragic actors of the time, and Cicero’s friend.
He is referred to in the De Offciis, I. § 31.

2 In the Olympic games.

® The gluttony of trained and professional athletes was pro-
verbial.

116 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

trained receive a wound than avoid it by any show
of cowardice! How often do they seem to have no
desire except to satisfy their masters or the people!
When prostrate with wounds, they send to their
masters to learn their pleasure. Unless their mas-
ters are satisfied, they are ready to lie down to die.
What gladiator of moderate reputation ever groaned,
or lost countenance, or showed himself a coward, as
he stood in combat, or even as he lay down to die ?
Or what one of them, when he had lain down and
was ordered to receive the fatal stroke, ever drew
his neck back? So much can exercise, thought
and habit avail. Shall then

‘** A vulgar Samnite worthy of his calling” 1

have this power of endurance, and shall one born
for glory have any part of his mind so effeminate
that he cannot make it strong by reflection and
reason? The gladiatorial spectacle is wont to be
regarded by some as cruel and inhuman, and I
know not whether, as it is now managed, it may
not be so. But when criminals fought in the
arena,” if there may have been for the ear, there
was not for the eye, any stronger discipline for the
endurance of pain and death.

1 A verse from Lucilius. The Samnites furnished Rome with
many gladiators.

2 1 find no record of a time when condemned criminals were
the only gladiators ; but criminals were condemned to fight as
gladiators, sometimes with a year’s postponement of the direct

execution of the capital sentence, sometimes with a provision for
their release if they remained alive at the end of three years.

_ =

On Bearing Pain. 117

18. I have spoken of exercise, of habit, and of
the mental self-possession resulting from it. Let
us now consider reason, unless you have any reply
to make to what I have said.

A. To interrupt you? I should be unwilling
to do so; for what you have said commands my
belief.

M. Let us then leave the question whether pain
is or is not an evil to the Stoics, who by subtleties
and paltry word-play which cannot reach the un-
derstanding attempt to arrive at the conclusion that
pain is not an evil Whatever it may be, I do not
think that it is as much as it seems, and I main-
tain that men are moved far more than is due by
its false appearance and representation, and that
all the pain that actually falls to their lot is endur-
able. Where then shall I commence? Shall I
touch briefly on what I have already said, that my
discourse may be the more easily continued? This
then is established among all, equally the learned
and the unlearned, that it is the part of brave and
large-minded men, of those who are self-possessed
and have risen above human vicissitudes, to endure
pain without yielding to it; nor was there ever any
one who did not think the man who thus suffered
worthy of praise. Is it not then disgraceful eitber
to fear the approach or not to bear the presence of
an endurance which is both demanded of the brave
and praised when it is exhibited? Consider too,
since all right affections of mind are termed virtues,

118 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

whether, instead of this being the proper name of
them all, they did not rather take their name from
that which alone excels all the rest. Virtue is
derived from the word which designates a man!
and the most characteristic property of a man is
courage, of which the two greatest functions are
the contempt of pain and the contempt of death.
These then must be exercised, if we mean to be
possessed of virtue, or rather, if we mean to be
men; since it is from men that virtue has derived
its name. You will perhaps ask how this virtue is
to be obtained, and rightly; for philosophy proposes
to furnish the requisite prescription.

19. Epicurus presents himself,— by no means
a bad man, or I should rather say, a very good
man. He gives advice to the extent of his knowl-
edge. He says, “Take no notice of pain.” Who
is it that says so? The same man who accounts
pain the greatest of evils. He is scarcely consis-
tent here. Let us hear him further. “Ifthe pain
be extreme, it must necessarily be brief.” Repeat
this to me; for I do not sufficiently understand
what you call “extreme,” or what you call “brief.”
“«Extreme’ is that than which there can be nothing
greater ; ‘brief,’ that than which there can be noth-
ing shorter. I despise the severity of any pain
from which its brief duration will deliver me almost

1 From vir, which denotes a man endowed with all manly
attributes, while homo is a generic term embracing all men,
whether manly or not.

On Bearing Pain. 119

before it comes upon me.” But what if the pain is
as great as that of Philoctetes?! “His pain seems
to me very great indeed, but not extreme. Noth-
ing but his foot pains him. His eyes are capable
of pain; so are his head, his sides, his lungs. So
is every part of his body. He is then very far
from extreme pain. Therefore,” says he, “long-con-
tinued pain is attended with more pleasure than
trouble.” Now I cannot say that such a man is
wholly destitute of wisdom; but I think that he is
making sport of us. I maintain that extreme pain
(and so I call it even though there be other pain
that is ten atoms greater) is not necessarily brief;
and I can name not a few good men who have been
tormented for many years with the acutest pain
from gout. But this careful man never defines the
measure of either severity or duration, so as to ena-
ble me to know what is extreme in pain, what is
short in time. Let us then leave him aside as say-
ing nothing to the purpose; and let us force him to
acknowledge that the remedies of pain are not to
be sought from one who regards pain as the great-
est of all evils, although he may show himself
somewhat brave in enduring dysentery and stran-
gury.2. We must therefore seek our remedy else-
where, and chiefly indeed, if we desire consistency,

1 See § 7, note.

2 Epicurus suffered severely for many years from bodily infir-
mity and disease, which he bore not only submissively, but
cheerfully, The man was far better than his philosophy.

120 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

from those to whom the right seems the supreme
good, the wrong the greatest of evils! In their
presence you certainly will not dare to groan and
to toss yourself restlessly ; for Virtue herself will
talk with you through their voice.

20. “When you have seen boys at Lacedaemon,
youths at Olympia, barbarians in the arena, receiv-
ing the heaviest blows and bearing them in silence,
will you, if any pain happens to give you a twinge,
ery out like a woman? Will you not bear it with
a composed and quiet mind ?” —“TIt is impossible;
it is more than nature can endure.’—“TI hear.
Boys bear pain, led by the hope of fame; others
bear it from shame; many for fear;? and yet do
we apprehend that Nature cannot endure what is
fully borne by so many and in so many situations ?
Indeed, she not only bears it, but even demands it;
for she has nothing more excellent, nothing which
she more earnestly craves than honor, than merit,
than dignity, than gracefulness of character. By
these several names I mean to express one thing;
but I use them all that I may put into my words
the fullest significance possible. I want to say
that by far the best thing for a man is that which
is to be chosen for its own sake, that which pro-
ceeds from virtue or resides in virtue, which is

1 The Stoics, whose founder, with a philosophy that ought to
have been a tonic, committed suicide to escape the growing infir-
mnities of age.

2 For fear of ridicule.

On Bearing Pain. 121

praiseworthy in its very essence, which indeed I
would rather call the ‘only good’ than not term it
the ‘supreme good.’! Moreover, as these things
are true concerning the right, their opposite is true
concerning the wrong. There is nothing so foul,
nothing so detestable, nothing more unworthy of a
man.” If you believe this— and you said at the
outset that there seemed to you to be more evil in
disgrace than in pain—it remains that you exercise
command over yourself, though I hardly know how
to say this, implying as it does that we are two,
one commanding, the other obeying.

21. Yet there is scientific truth in this form of
speech ; for the soul is divided into two parts, of
which one possesses reason, the other lacks it.
When therefore we are commanded to govern our-
selves, the precept implies that reason should re-
strain impulse. There is naturally in the soul of
almost every man something soft, low, earthy, in a
certain degree nerveless and feeble. But reason is
at hand, mistress and queen of all, which by its
own force striving and advancing upward, becomes
perfect virtue. A man must take care that this
have under its command that part of the soul
which ought to obey. Do you ask how? Either
as a master commands his servant, or as the gen-
eral his soldier, or as a father his son. If that part

1 The rigid Stoics termed virtue the ‘‘ only good ;” the Peri-
patetics, and the disciples of the New Academy, who accepted
their ethical philosophy, called it the ‘‘ supreme good.”

122 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

of the soul which I have called “soft” shall conduct
itself most disgracefully ; if it shall surrender itself
effeminately to lamentation and tears,—let it be
bound and constrained by the guardianship of
friends and kindred; for we often see those who
could not be conquered by reason subdued by
shame. Such persons must then, like slaves, be
kept in bonds and under custody. But those who
are more firm, yet not of the most hardy type,
ought to be admonished, as good soldiers recalled to
the ranks, to maintain their dignity. That wisest
of the Greeks, in the Miptra,) when wounded, la-
ments not excessively, but rather moderately, when
he says, —
** Move with slow step and at an even pace,

Lest, as you bear me, by a sudden shock

My rankling wound may give severer pain.”
Pacuvius is here to be preferred to Sophocles,
who makes Ulysses lament very tearfully over his
wound. Yet according to Pacuvius, when he gives
even slight tokens of suffering, those who are car-
rying the wounded man, considering his weight of
character, do not hesitate to say, —

** You too, Ulysses, though severely wounded,
Yet show more tokens of a feeble soul

Than fit the soldier well inured to peril
By land and sea, in arms, of old renown.”

1 A lost tragedy of Sophocles, translated or rather paraphrased
by Pacuvius, the nephew of Ennius. .The subject was the death
of Ulysses by the hand of Telegonus, his son by Circe. The
extracts here given seem to be-all from Pacuvius,

On Bearing Pain. - 123

The wise poet understands that habit is not to be
despised as a master in the art of bearing pain.
But in great pain Ulysses does not give way to
excessive lamentation.

*‘ Hold ; stay your steps ; my anguish overpowers me.
Ah wretched me! remove this tightened bandage.”

He begins to yield, but at once recovers himself.

** Cover my wound and leave me: put me down.
You make my pain the keener by your touch,
And by the jolting on the rock-strewn way.”

Do you see how it is not the quieting of bodily suf-
fering, but the chastening of the soul’s suffering
that produces silence? Thus at the close of the
Niptra he also reproves others, and says in dying,
* A man complains of fortune, not laments ;
It is a woman’s part to weep and wail.”

In his case the softer portion of the soul obeyed
reason as the modest soldier obeys the stern
commander.

22. He in whom will be perfect wisdom — whom
we have not yet seen,! but philosophers define what
sort of a man he will be if he shall ever at any
time make his appearance — he, I say, or that rea-
son which in him will be perfect and absolute, will
govern the inferior part of the soul, as an impartial
father governs his well-disposed children. He will

1 The Stoics maintained that the truly wise man was an ideal
that had never been realized, not even in their founder. See the
De Officiis, III. § 4. ’

124 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

effect his purpose as by a mere nod, without labor,
without trouble. He will put himself into an erect
posture, arouse himself, equip himself, arm himself,
that he may take his stand against pain as if it
were an enemy. What are his arms? Energy,
firmness, self-communion, in which he will say to
himself, “Shun everything base, weak, unmanly.”
Let honorable examples become familiar to the
mind, such as that of Zeno of Elea, who suffered
everything rather than betray those who were con-
cerned in the plot for abolishing the tyranny. Let
there be remembrance of Anaxarchus, the disciple
of Democritus,? who, having fallen into the hands of
Nicocreon, king of Cyprus, neither deprecated nor
evaded any form of punishment. We have heard
too of Calanus,’ the Indian, unlearned and a barba-
rian, born at the foot of the Caucasus, who was
burned alive by his own choice. We, if a foot ora
tooth gives us pain, or if there is pain in any part

1 He lived in the fifth century B.c. That he was engaged in
attempts to extirpate a merciless tyranny is certain; but the
name of the tyrant is differently reported by different authorities,
nor is it certain whether he perished in the attempt to dethrone
the tyrant, or survived his fall.

2 He was shipwrecked on the coast of Cyprus, thus fell into
the hands of the king to whom he had previously given offence,
and was by his command pounded to death in a stone mortar.

8 He wasa Gymnosophist. He followed Alexander from India,
was taken ill, and to escape imminent and future suffering, burned
himself to death in the presence of the Macedonian army. His
is hardly a case in point, or an example under the category in
which Cicero classes him.

"

On Bearing Pain. 125

of the body, cannot endure it. For there is an
effeminate and trivial way of thinking, no more as to
pain than as to pleasure, in which, when we become
dissipated and relaxed by luxurious living, we can-
not bear the sting of a bee without an outcry. But
Caius Marius, a man of rustic breeding, yet evi-
dently a man, when he was to be operated upon as
I have already mentioned, at the outset refused to
be bound; and it is said that no one before Marius
had ever been thus operated upon without being
bound. Why then did others after him do the
like? His authority had sufficient influence. Do
you not see, then, that pain is an evil in opinion,
and not by nature? Yet this same Marius showed
that he felt the sharp pangs of pain ; for he declined
to offer the other leg for a like operation. Thus he
at once bore pain like a man, and like a human be-
ing? was unwilling without sufficient reason to bear
more pain than was necessary. The whole of what
is required consists in your having command over
yourself. I have shown you what kind of com-
mand is needed; and this habit of thinking what is
most worthy of patience, of fortitude, of greatness
of soul, not only exercises restraint over the mind,
but also somehow makes pain itself the lighter.

23. For as in battle a hesitating and timid sol-
dier as soon as he sees the enemy throws down his
shield and runs away as fast as he can, and for that
very reason perishes, sometimes even without being

1 Latin, vir. 2 Latin, homo.

126 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

wounded, while no such thing happens to one who
maintains his ground; so those who cannot bear
the appearance of pain throw themselves down and |
thus lie broken and dispirited, while those who
have resisted very often come off superior in the
conflict. There are indeed certain resemblances
between soul and body.. As weights are carried
more easily when the muscles are in full tension,
and are oppressive when the muscles are relaxed,
so by a very close analogy the soul by its own
strong effort excludes all the pressure of its bur-
dens, but by the remission of its energy it is so
weighed down that it cannot sustain itself. In-
deed, if we would know the truth, energy of soul
must be brought to bear in the faithful discharge
of every duty. It is, so to speak, the sole guardian
of duty. But in pain the utmost care is to be
taken that we do nothing meanly, nothing timidly,
nothing weakly, nothing slavishly or effeminately,
and especially let outcries like those of Philoctetes
be suppressed and shunned. It is sometimes. per-
mitted to a man to groan, but seldom; nor is bois-
terous lamentation allowable even for a woman.
It is indeed such weeping that the law of the
Twelve Tables! forbids at funerals. A brave and
wise man never groans, unless it may be in the
effort to gain added strength, as runners on the

1 Mulieres genas ne radunto, neve lessum funeris ergo habento,
i. e. ‘‘ Women are forbidden to lacerate their cheeks and to howl
at funerals,”

On Bearing Pain. 127

race-course cry out as noisily as they can. Ath-
letes do the same when they are in training, and
pugilists when they aim a blow at an adversary
groan as they throw the caestus,— not because they
are in pain or are of feeble spirit, but because by
this free use of the voice the whole body is brought
into vigorous tension, and the blow comes with the
greater force.

24. What? Do those who want to utter them-
selves with special force consider it enough to put
into full tension the sides, the jaws, the tongue,
from which we see that the voice is thrown out and
poured forth? With the entire body, with tooth
and nail so to speak, they aid the effort of the
voice. By Hercules, I saw Marcus Antonius, when
he was pleading earnestly for himself under the
Varian law,? touch the ground with his knee. For

1 Latin, omnibus wngulis ; literally, with all the hoofs, claws, or
talons, — a proverbial saying in common use, which I have ren-
dered as nearly as possible by an English equivalent.

2 Marcus Antonius was the greatest orator of his time. He
died in Cicero’s nineteenth year, so that there was no rivalry to
interfere with Cicero’s evidently unfeigned admiration for him.
What is known as the Varian law enacted a judicial inquiry into
the complicity of such Roman citizens as might have counselled,
aided or abetted, in the Social War. I can find no historical
account of his prosecution under that law, which was passed but
four years before his death; and yet I think that it was under
such a prosecution that the speech referred to by Cicero was de-
livered. Commentators generally suppose that reference is made
to what was probably his greatest speech. When he was on his

way to the government of his province in Asia, and was legally
exempted from prosecution till the close of his official term, he

128 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

as the military engines that hurl stones and those
that throw weapons discharge them with the greater
force, the more violently they are strained and
tightened, so is the voice, the pace, the blow, the
more vigorous when it proceeds from strong tension
of the body. Since this tension has so much power,
if groaning in pain will be of avail in strengthening
the soul, we will groan; but if the groaning be
mournful, imbecile, abject, tearful, I should hardly
call him a man who yields to it. If our groaning
really brought relief, it would still be a question
what a brave and high-spirited man would do; but
since it does not in the least diminish pain, why
are we willing to degrade ourselves to no pur-
pose? And what is more degrading to a man than
effeminate weeping? Moreover, this precept which
I give concerning pain has a wider application.
With a like tension of soul, we should resist every-
thing, not pain alone. Anger is inflamed; lust is
roused,— we must resort to the same citadel; the
same weapons are to be wielded. But since I am
speaking about pain, I will omit other subjects.
In order then to bear pain placidly and calmly, it
is of great avail to think, so to speak, with the

heard at Brundusium that he was accused of a flagitious intrigue
with a Vestal virgin. He returned to Rome immediately, de-
manded a trial, defended himself, was triumphantly acquitted,
and then proceeded to his province, There might have been
some other Varian law, under which this trial took place; but I
think that it occurred too early for Cicero to have been present
at it.

Te

On Bearing Pain. 129

whole heart, how honorable such endurance is, We
are by nature, as I have already said (for it needs
to be often repeated), exceedingly earnest for and
desirous of honor, of which if we get, as it were, a
mere glimpse, there is nothing which we are not
ready to bear and to suffer in order to obtain pos-
session of it. It is from this pursuit and urgent
endeavor of the soul with genuine merit and honor
in view, that dangers are faced in battle. Brave
men, while in the ranks, do not feel wounds, or if
they feel them, they prefer death to the slightest
departure from their honorable position. The Decii
saw the swords of their enemies glittering when
they rushed upon their ranks. The nobleness and
glory of death relieved them from all fear of being
wounded. Do you think that Epaminondas groaned
when he felt his life flowing out with his blood ?
No; for he left his country dictating terms to the
Lacedaemonians to whom he had found it subject.
These are the reliefs, the emollients for the severest
pain.

25. You will ask, How is it in peace? How, at
home? How, in bed? You recall me to philoso-
phers, who do not often go to war. Of these, Dio-
nysius of Heraclea, a man of no great weight of
character, having learned of Zeno to be brave, was
taught the contrary lesson by pain; for when he was
suffering from disease of the kidneys, he cried out
among his exclamations of distress that what he had

before believed about pain was false. When his
9

130 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

fellow-disciple Cleanthes asked him what reasoning
had drawn him away from his former opinion, he an-
swered, “That when I had devoted so much labor
to philosophy I could not bear pain, is a sufficient
proof that pain is an evil. I did consume many
- years in philosophy ; I cannot bear pain: therefore
pain is an evil.” Cleanthes then is said, striking
the ground with his foot, to have repeated the verse
from the Lpigoni;

“* Among the dead hear’st thou this, Amphiaraus ?”

meaning Zeno, from whom he was sorry that his dis-
ciple had fallen away. But it was otherwise with
my friend the philosopher Posidonius, whom I my-
self often saw, and I will relate a story which Pom-
pey was in the habit of telling. When Pompey was
on his way from Syria, he wanted to hear Posido-
nius ;? and learning that he was severely ill, suffer-
ing greatly from the gout, he still desired to visit
this most noble philosopher. When he had seen
him, and saluted him, and addressed him in respect-
ful terms, and expressed his grief at not being able
to hear him, he replied, “ You indeed can hear me,
nor will I suffer that any pain of body should cause
so great a man to come to me in vain.” And so, as
Pompey said, lying on his bed, he lectured impres-

1 Of Aeschylus.

2 Posidonius then and for many years lived and taught in
Rhodes. He removed to Rome shortly before his death. He
was a pupil of Panaetius, and virtually succeeded him as the
great light of the Stoic school.

eo

On Bearing Pain. 131

sively and fluently on the proposition that nothing
is good except the Right; and when pain applied
to him, as it were, its lighted torches, he often
exclaimed, “ Pain, thou art of no effect. Trouble-
some as thou art, I will never admit that thou art
an evil.” In fine, all forms of affliction, when made
illustrious and noble by despising them, become
endurable.

26. Do we not see among the men who hold in
great honor the games called “gymnastic” that no
pain is shunned by those who strive for the mas-
tery? Among the men with whom hunting and
horsemanship are held in the highest esteem, those
who are versed in these arts avoid no pain. What
shall we say of our own ambitions? What of our
desire for places of honor? What flame is so hot,
that candidates for office were not formerly ready
to run through it to collect single votes?! Thus
Africanus always had in his hands Xenophon, the
disciple of Socrates, in whom he was especially
delighted with the saying that the same labors are
not equally burdensome to the commander and the
soldier, because the very honor makes the com-
mander’s labor lighter. But yet it is a fact that

1 Latin, punctis singulis, Before voting by ballot was legal-
ized, the voter declared his vote orally, and the rogator entered
it by a puncture in a wax tablet against the name of the candi-
date voted for. The candidates then employed personal solicita-
tion on the spot in obtaining votes. The ballot was introduced

on the same grounds on which it was urged, and so long in vain,
in the British Parliament.

132 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

the sentiment of honor has great power with the
uncultivated common people, even when they do
not clearly see what it implies. They are still
moved by fame and by the opinion of the multi-
tude, regarding that as honorable which has the
applause of the greatest number. I would not
indeed have you, if you are before the eyes of the
multitude, stand by their opinion, or regard as such
what they deem supremely excellent. You must
use your own judgment. If you satisfy yourself in
approving what is right, you will not only have
conquered yourself, as a little while ago I bade you
do, but you will have conquered all men and all
things. This then I lay down for your guidance,
that a certain breadth of mind, together with the
utmost loftiness of soul that can be attained, which
is especially manifest in scorn and contempt for
pain, is the one most excellent thing of all, and the
more excellent, if it is independent of the people,
and not seeking applause, finds delight in its very
self. Indeed, all things seem to me more praise-
worthy which are done without ostentation, and
not in order to be seen by the multitude,— not
that their, observation is to be shunned (for every-
thing that is well done craves to be placed in the
light) ; but yet there is no greater theatre for virtue
than one’s own consciousness.

27. Moreover, let us consider that this capacity
of bearing pain, which, as I have already often said,
is to be strengthened by the soul’s earnest endeavor,

On Bearing Pain. 133

should show itself the same under all circumstan-
ces. For many who, from the desire of victory or
of fame, or even for the maintenance of their rights
and their liberty, have received and borne wounds
bravely, are unable to bear the pain ensuing from
disease, the effort of the soul being suspended; for
the pain which they had easily endured they had
endured not by the aid of reason or wisdom, but
rather for ambition and glory. In like manner,
there are certain barbarous and savage men who
can fight with the sword most bravely, yet cannot
bear illness manfully. But the Greeks, with very
little courage, yet as wise as men are capable of
being, though they cannot look an enemy in the
face, bear illness patiently and cheerfully. On the
other hand, the Cimbri and the Celtiberi, when ill,
are in deep distress; for there can be no perfect
consistency which has not determinate reason for
its foundation. But when you see that those who
are under the leading of desire or belief are not
broken down by pain in the pursuit and attainment
of their aim, you ought to conclude, either that
pain is not an evil, or, if you see fit to call what-
ever is annoying and uncongenial with nature an
evil, that it is an evil of so very little magnitude
that virtue may bury it out of sight. I beg you to
meditate on these things day and night; for this
mode of reasoning will have a wider application,
and will occupy a somewhat larger space than con-
cerns pain alone. If we do everything for the sake

134 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

of shunning disgrace and obtaining merited honor,
we may despise not only the stings of pain, but
equally the thunderbolts of fortune, especially since
our yesterday’s discussion prepares a refuge for us.
As were some god to say to a sailor pursued by
pirates, “Throw yourself from the ship; either a
dolphin is ready to receive you, as one rescued
Arion of Methymna, or else those horses of Nep-
tune sent for Pelops that are said to have drawn
chariots floating on the crest of the wave will take
you up and carry you where you want to go,” he
would feel no fear; so when annoying and hateful
pains press upon you, if they are such as are not to
be borne, you see where you are to take refuge.
This is in substance what, as it seemed to me,
needed to be said at the present time. But you
perhaps remain in your former opinion.

A. By no means, indeed. These two days, I
trust, have freed me from fear of the two things
which I most dreaded.

M. To-morrow then to the clock;? for thus we

1 Suicide, as to which Cicero seems to vacillate between the
opinion and practice of the Stoics and his own better judgment.
That this latter was predominant as regards himself appears from
the fact that he lived on through latter years of disappointment,
adversity and peril, and not from cowardice, as he met death with
a calm courage worthy not only of his highest philosophy, but of
the faith which, had it dawned upon the world in his time, would
have found no man better prepared to welcome and embrace it.

2 Latin, clepsydram, the water-clock. Advocates in the courts
had allotted to them certain limited times, measured by the clep-

— oi Ges

On Bearing Pain. — 135

measure our exercises in rhetoric! At the same
time I see that for philosophy you will not leave
me in debt to you.

A. So be it, —the rhetoric indeed before noon;
the philosophy at the same time as yesterday and
to-day.

M. We will make this arrangement, and comply
with your best wishes.”

sydra. Hence the custom of using the clock in declamations and
rhetorical exercises.

1 Latin, sic enim dicimus. Some editions read diximus. If
that reading were adopted, the rendering would be, ‘‘for so we
agreed. ”

2 Latin, studiis.

BOOK IIL.
ON GRIEF.

1. Wuart reason can I give, Brutus, why, con-
sisting as we do of soul and body, the art of curing
and caring for the body has been sought out, and
its utility reverently ascribed to the invention of
the immortal gods, while the medical treatment of
the soul was not so much desired before its methods
were ascertained, nor has been so much cultivated
since it was known, nor is so much an object of
complacency and approval with the many, while
not a few regard it with suspicion and dislike? Is
it that we judge by the soul of the burdens and
pains of the body, while we do not feel with the
body the sickness of the soul? Thus it is that the
soul passes judgment on itself, when that which
thus judges is itself diseased. But if Nature had
so formed us that we could behold and thoroughly
inspect her very self, and under her supremely
good guidance could accomplish our course of life,
there were certainly no need that any one should
look farther for reason and instruction. Now, how-
ever, she has given us only very scanty fires, which
we speedily so quench by bad habits and depraved

mr he

On Grief. 137

opinions, that the light of Nature never appears.
Yet there are innate in our minds seeds of virtue,
which once suffered to grow, Nature herself would
lead us to a happy life. But now, as soon as we
are brought forth into the light and taken up from
the ground, we become familiar with every form of
evil-doing and with the utmost perversity of opin-
ion, so that we almost seem to have sucked in error
with the nurse’s milk. When from her charge we
are given back to our parents, we are delivered
over to masters, and then are so imbued with va-
rious errors, that truth succumbs to falsehood, and
Nature herself to confirmed opinion.

2. The poets also give their aid. Carrying the
greatest prestige of learning and wisdom, they are
heard, read, committed to memory, and imbedded
deeply in the mind. When to their influence is
added that of the people as collectively a teacher
of the highest authority, and of the entire multitude
in all quarters giving their approval to what is
wrong, we become thoroughly infected with de-
praved notions, and place ourselves in revolt against
Nature, so that those seem to have envied us this
our best teacher, who account nothing more benefi-

1 Latin, suscepti sumus. This refers to the old Roman cus-
tom, by which the father signified his purpose to keep the child
or to let it perish, by taking it up from the ground or floor or suf-
fering it to lie there. ToJllere, in the sense of bringing up a
child, has this original significance ; and our phrase to bring up,
as applied to children, is derived from this idiom, and remotely
from its primeval meaning in Rome.

138 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

cial for man, nothing to be more earnestly sought,
nothing more excellent than civil offices, military
commands,! and that popularity, toward which every
man of superior ability feels himself urged, and
thus while seeking the true honor which nature
alone demands above all things else, becomes con-
cerned in the merest trifles, and pursues no lofty
form of virtue, but a shadowy image of fame. True
fame, however, is something substantial and clearly
outlined, not shadowy. It is the unanimous praise
of the good, the uncorrupted verdict of those capa-
ble of passing a fair judgment on excelling virtue.
It corresponds to virtue as its image, and because
it generally accompanies right-doing, it is not to be
spurned by good men. But that popular fame which
desires to imitate it, hasty and unreflecting, and for
the most part ready to praise faults and vices, by
deceitful appearances does discredit to the form and
beauty of what is truly honorable. By the blind-
ness thus induced, men who desired what was ex-
cellent, but knew not where it was to be found or
in what it consisted, have, some of them, overthrown
their States, while others have themselves perished.
Indeed, those who seek what is best are deceived
not so much by wrong purpose as by a mistaken
course of life. Now are there no curative meas-
ures to be applied to those who are borne on by

1 Latin, honoribus, imperiis, the former term almost always,
and always when connected with the latter, denoting not ‘‘honor,”
but “ office,”

On Grief. 139

greed for money or by lust for sensual pleasure, and
whose minds are so disturbed that they are nearly
insane, which is the case with all who are unwise ?
Is it that sicknesses of the soul are less harmful
than those of the body; or, while bodies can be
cured, that there is no medicine for souls ?

3. But there are more harmful disorders of the
soul than of the body, and more of them; for those
of the body are troublesome because they belong to
the soul and disquiet it, and the grief-stricken soul,
says Ennius, is always in error, nor is capable of
bearing or enduring anything, and never ceases to
crave. Than these two diseases, grief and desire,
not to mention others, what worse disorders can
there be in the body? But how can it be proved
that the soul cannot cure itself? Since the soul
has invented the medicine for the body, since the
very bodily frame and nature are of great avail for
the curing of bodily disease, and since all who suffer
themselves to be cured are gradually, not suddenly
convalescent,! should there be any doubt that souls
desiring to be cured and obeying the precepts of
the wise may be cured? Philosophy is certainly

1 Since the soul has invented means for the cure of the body,
much more may it devise means for its own cure. Since in medi-
cine for the body, nature and the constitution bear a great part,
there is no reason why nature and the soul’s constitution should
be of less efficacy in the soul’s diseases. Since cures of the body
are gradual, there is no analogy against the gradual cure of the
soul — which certainly cannot be suddenly cured — by appropri-
’ ate means.

140 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

the medicine of the soul. Its aid is to be sought
not from without, as in diseases of the body; and
we must labor with all our resources and with all
our strength to cure ourselves. Of philosophy as a
whole, how laboriously it is to be sought and culti-
vated, I have spoken sufficiently, I think, in my
Hortensius. But in these books I am writing out
my discussions with friends in the Tusculan villa.
As in two books I have treated of death and of
pain, the discussion of the third day will constitute
this third volume. Going down into my Academy
in the afternoon, I asked of some one present a
subject for discussion, and the following conversa-
tion ensued.

4. A, I think that the wise man is liable to
grief.

M. Is he liable also to other disturbances of soul,
—to fears, lusts, resentments? For these, too, are of
the class which the Greeks call 7a6n.2 I might term
them diseases,? rendering one word by another; but
it would not be in accordance with our idiom. For
the Greeks call envy, strong excitement, exuberant

1 This word denotes any affection whatever that comes to the
mind or soul from a cause outside of itself. Thus it embraces
bodily suffering, which originates not in the mind, but is felt only
by the mind. It equally includes gladness, when it has its cause
outside of the soul. Our term “affection,” in its broadest sense,
is the best definition of the Greek word.

2 Morbus, which has as limited a meaning as our word “ sick-
ness,” is commonly used only of bodily disease, yet, like ‘‘sick-
ness,” is metaphorically applied to diseases of the mind or soul.

On Grief. 141

gladness by the term just cited which designates
sickness, inasmuch as they are movements of the
soul not under the control of reason ; but we, rightly
as I think, call these same movements of an excited
mind perturbations,— though you perhaps think
otherwise. .

A, I entirely agree with you.

M. You think then that the wise man is liable
to these affections.

A. So it seems to me, without doubt.

M. That boastful wisdom then is not to be held
in high esteem, if indeed it differs little from
insanity.

A, What? Does every commotion of mind seem
to you insanity ?

‘M. Not indeed to me alone, but I understand,
marvellous as it often appears to me, that it was so
regarded by our ancestors many ages before Socra-
tes, from whom proceeds all this existing philoso-
phy of life and morals.

A. How is this?

M. Because the term “insanity” in itself implies
infirmity and disease of mind; that is, the unsound-
ness and feebleness of mind to which this name is
usually given. Now philosophers term all disturb-
ances of mind “diseases,” and maintain that no fool-
ish person is free from these diseases. But those
who are diseased are not sane;? the minds of all
the unwise are diseased: therefore all the unwise are

1 Insania. 2 Sani.

142 Cicere’s Tusculan Disputations.

insane. The same philosophers have maintained
that saneness of mind has for its basis a certain
tranquillity and self-consistency. The state of mind
that lacks these qualities they term “insanity,” be-
cause in a disturbed mind, as in a disturbed body,
sanity cannot be.

5. With no less nicety of distinction philoso-
phers have called that affection of the soul in
which the light of the mind is wanting, “the loss
of mind,”! and also being “out of one’s mind.”?
Hence we must infer that those who gave these
names had the same opinion, which, derived from
Socrates, the Stoics have carefully retained, — that
no unwise person is sane. For the mind affected by
any disease (and philosophers, as I have just said,
term those disturbed movements “ diseases”) is no
more sound than is a diseased body. Thus it is, that
wisdom is saneness of the soul; unwisdom, a certain
kind of unsoundness, which is insanity, and also,
being out of one’s mind. These things are much
better designated in the Latin than in the Greek, —
a statement which will be found true as to many
subjects. But of this I will speak elsewhere, con-
fining myself now to the discussion in hand. As
to the whole subject of our present inquiry, the very
meaning of the word “insanity” shows what it is
and of what quality; for since it must necessarily
be understood that those are sane whose minds are
disturbed by no movement that can be likened to a

1 Amentia, 2 Dementia.

On Grief. 143

disease, those in the opposite condition must neces-
sarily be called “insane.” Thus there is nothing
better than our Latin idiom by which we say that
those who are drawn without bridle by either lust
or anger have “passed out of their own power.” !
Anger itself, however, belongs under the head of
lust; for anger is properly defined as the “lust for
revenge.” Those then who are said to have passed
out of their own power are so spoken of, because
they are not under the power of the mind, to which
the sovereignty of the whole soul is assigned by
nature. But why the Greeks call this paviav? I
could not easily say. We, however, define it better
than they do; for we distinguish this insanity,
which, as conjoined with foolishness, has a broader
meaning, from madness. The Greeks indeed want
to make the distinction; but they lack the right
word. What we call “madness” they term peday-
xvoriav,=—as if the mind were moved only by black
bile, and not often by excessive anger, fear, or pain,
in which sense we call Athamas, Alemaeon, Ajax,
Orestes mad. The law of the Twelve Tables for-

1 Evxisse ex potestate.

2 Mania, which in Greek, as in our English use of the term,
generally denotes insanity of a violent type.

8 Melancholy, literally meaning ‘‘ black bile,” which was sup-
posed to be the source or cause of the affection of mind thus
termed. The word in its Greek use, as it seems to me, denotes
not so much the utter loss of reason, as an intensity of passion
that can show itself in the most desperate acts. The word is
well defined by the examples given in the text.

144 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

bids one thus affected to have the charge of his own
affairs. The text of the law is not “If one be
insane,” 1! but “If one be mad;”? for those who
wrote the law regarded the foolishness which lacks
consistency of character,— that is, insanity, — as
capable of attending to ordinary duties and observ-
ing the common and usual proprieties of life, while
they considered madness as blindness of mind on
every subject. While this seems to be more than
insanity, it is still of such a nature that madness
may befall a wise man, but not insanity. This,
however, is a question alien from our present pur-
pose. Let us return to our subject.

6. You said, I think, that a wise man seems to
you liable to grief.

A. Such, indeed, is my opinion.

M. It is in accordance with human nature for
you to think so; for we are not born of flint. On
the other hand, there is in most souls by nature
something tender and soft, that can be shaken by
grief as by a storm. Nor did Crantor, who in our
New Academy held a distinguished place among
our greatest men, speak otherwise than sensibly
when he said, “I by no means agree with those

1 Si insanus escit.

2 Si furiosus escit, It is by no means probable that the law-
makers had in mind the distinction which Cicero here makes.
Under the term furiosus they undoubtedly meant to include all
types of insanity, as we have often seen ‘‘ madness” used in this

broad sense, and as almost down to our own time an asylum for
the insane has been called a ‘‘ madhouse.”

_ (ultet A.

— wr

On Grief. | 145

who bestow great praise on a certain incapacity of
pain, which cannot be and ought not to be. I
would rather not be ill; but if I were so, I should
choose to retain my sensibility, even in case of am-
putation or of the removal of a tumor; for this free-
dom from pain can be had only at the great price
of savageness in the soul or stupor in the body.”
But let us beware lest this may be the language of
those who yield favor to our weakness and indulge
our effeminacy. Let us dare, on the other hand, not
only to lop off the branches of our miseries but
also to pluck up all the fibres of their roots. Yet
there will perhaps be something left, so deep do the
shoots of folly strike; but there shall be nothing
left unnecessarily.2 Take this indeed for granted,
that unless the mind be made sane, which it cannot
be without philosophy, there will be no end of
misery. Therefore, since we have begun, let us
commit ourselves to its curative treatment. We
shall be made sane, if we desire to be. I will
indeed go farther; for I will not treat of grief
alone, but of every kind of “mental disturbance,”
as I have termed it, “ disease,” as the Greeks call it.
First, if you please, let us follow the method of the
Stoics, who are wont to compress their arguments

1 Latin, miseriarum, meaning ‘‘ causes of grief.”

2 What Cicero means to say here is, that though, by the aid
of philosophy, much of the misery of human life may be de-
stroyed, root and branch, yet there will remain what seem causes
of grief, which. philosophy cannot remove, but may virtually
neutralize,

10

146 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

within a brief space, and then I will discourse more
at large in my own accustomed way.

7. The man who is brave is also trustful,! not to
say confiding ;? for by a bad colloquial usage confid-
ingness is spoken of as a fault, though derived from
the word that means “to confide,” * which is deemed
praiseworthy. But he who is trustful is certainly
not under the dominion of fear; for trust and fear
are very far apart. Now he who is liable to grief
is liable also to fear; for we fear those things im-
pending and coming, which, when present, occasion
us grief. Thus it is that grief is incompatible with
courage. It is then probable that he who is liable
to grief is also liable to fear and to a broken and
depressed state of mind. When these befall a man,
he must admit that he is in a servile condition
and overpowered. He who gives them room in his
soul gives room at the same time to timidity and
cowardice. But the brave man is not liable to
them ; therefore he is not liable to grief. Now no
man is wise who is not brave; therefore the wise
man is not liable to grief. Still further, he who is
brave must of necessity have a great soul; he who

1 Fidens,

2 Confidens.

3 Confidendo. The following is a more nearly literal transla-
tion of this sentence. ‘‘He who is brave is also trusting [i. e.
trustful] (jidens). [I use this word] because by a bad habit of
speech ‘confiding’ (confidens) is employed to denote a fault,
though derived from the verb ‘confide’ (a confidendo), which
means something praiseworthy.”

On Grief. 147

has a great soul must be unconquered; he who is
unconquered must despise the vicissitudes of hu-
man fortune, and regard them as placed beneath
him: but no man can despise aught in consequence
of which he is affected by grief,— whence it fol-
lows that a brave man is never affected by grief.
But all wise men are brave. Therefore the wise
man is not liable to grief. Moreover, as the eye
disturbed in its action is not ina proper state to
discharge its office, and as the other members and
the entire body when put out of their normal state
are wanting to their purpose and function, so the
disturbed mind is not fit to discharge its function.
But the function of the mind is to make use of
reason, and the mind of the wise man is always so
affected as to make the best use of reason. It is
therefore never disturbed, and grief is disturbance
of mind; therefore the wise man will always be
free from it.

8. It is also probable that he who is temperate—
whom the Greeks call cappova, and they term the
virtue cwPpocvvny,? which I am accustomed to call

1 It will be seen that this section consists almost entirely of
syllogisms (including the sorites, which is a mass of truncated
syllogisms), which would need very slight verbal changes in order
to put them into a strictly scientific form.

2 “Discreet,” or ‘ prudent.” The Latin temperatus has a much
broader meaning than we are accustomed to give to “ temperate.”

3 Discretion,” or “prudence.” The sentence commencing
“Tt is also probable that he who is temperate,” suddenly breaks

off, and is succeeded by what is virtually a long parenthesis, which
lasts as far as the words, “‘He then who is frugal,” which is a

148 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

sometimes “temperance,” sometimes “ moderation,”
sometimes also “modesty.”! But I know not wheth-
er this virtue can be rightly termed “frugality,” which
has a narrower signification with the Greeks, who
call frugal men ypnoipous,? which means merely
“useful.” Our term has a broader meaning, for it
includes every form of abstinence and all that is
comprised in “innocence,” which in the Greek has
no corresponding term in current use, though it might
employ with like meaning 48rdPevay ;* for inno-
cence is such a frame of mind as can injure no one.
Frugality embraces also the rest of the virtues; for
if it were not so comprehensive, but as narrow
as most persons think it, the surname of Lucius
Piso* would never have conveyed so much praise.
But because neither he who for fear has deserted
his post as sentinel, which is the part of cowardice,

continuation of what Cicero began to say in the first words of
the section.

1 Modestia. AM the words denoting character derived from
modus signify the avoidance of extremes. ‘* Modesty” in English
means the avoidance of extremes in ostentation or self-assertion,
while in Latin modestia often has something of the broader sense
of moderatio.

2 “Useful,” or “ gainful,” is the primary meaning of the word,
which is applied to frugal people as serviceable rather than as
virtuous.

3“ Harmlessness,” or ‘* innocence.” ‘It corresponds closely in
meaning to the Latin innocentia, and there’ seems no reason why
it should not have been in equally current use.

* Frugi, a surname that seems to have been given to him, in
the sense which Cicero attaches to it, as including all the virtues
‘that constitute a truly honorable character.

—

On Grief. 149

nor:he who: for avarice has failed to return goods
intrusted to his charge, which is the part of dishon-
esty, nor he who from rashness has mismanaged
an enterprise, which is the part of folly, is wont
to be called “frugal,” frugality, therefore, embraces
the three virtues, courage, honesty and prudence;
though it is a common characteristic of all the
virtues that they are connected and bound with
one another, so that there is room for our making
frugality a fourth virtue, having for its special office
to govern and appease all the mind’s movements of
desire, and always to maintain a firmness of soul
hostile to lust and moderate in all things. The vice
opposite to this is called “prodigality.” Frugal-
ity is derived from the fruits of the ground,! than
which the earth yields nothing better. Our word
for prodigality ?—it may seem a somewhat forced
derivation ; but let us try:.if it is of no worth, it
may be thought that I am only in sport — comes
from there being nothing at all® in the prodigal, for
which reason he is termed a “nothing.”* He then
who is frugal, or, if you prefer the terms, moderate
and temperate, must of necessity be firm; he who
is firm, calm; he who is calm, free from every

1 From fruges, which denotes any kind of agricultural product,
but especially grain,

2 Nequitia, which in accordance with Cicero’s derivation of it
might be rendered ‘‘ good-for-nothingness.”

8 Nequicquam, which may mean ‘‘nothing.” This derivation
is by no.means improbable.

£ Nihil. So we call a worthless man a ‘‘ cipher.”

150 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

perturbation of mind, therefore also free from grief;
and these are the characteristics of the wise man:
therefore grief will have no place with the wise
man.

9. Therefore Dionysius of Heraclea shows his
clear understanding on this subject, in his reason-
ing about the complaint of Achilles in the Jliad,—

‘“¢ With sorrowing anger swells my heart within me
For fame and honor that were justly mine.”

Is the hand as it ought to be, when swollen? Is
not any other member of the body, when tumid or
swollen, in a bad condition? Equally the mind
inflated and swollen is in a faulty state. But the
wise man’s mind is always free from fault, is never
swollen, is never tumid; while an angry mind is so,
Therefore the wise man is never angry. Moreover,
if one is angry, he has also inordinate desire ; for it
is characteristic of an angry man to desire to inflict
the greatest possible amount of pain on him by
whom he supposes himself to have been injured.
But he who desires this must of necessity have
great joy if his end be attained, so that he must
rejoice in another person’s misfortune. Now since
this cannot be the case with a wise man, he cannot
be liable to anger. But if grief would befit a wise
man, anger might also, from which since he is free,
he will also be free from grief! Then too, if a wise

1 Both being equally disturbances or perturbations of mind,
from which the wise man, as such, is free.

ee

On Grief, 151

man were liable to grief, he would also be liable to
pity 1 and to enviousness. I say not “envy,” which
exists only in specific instances; while the term
that I have used has an unmistakable meaning, so
that we thus escape the ambiguous word “envy,”
which is derived from seeing too closely into anoth-
er’s affairs, as in that verse in the Menalippa, —

** Who envies me the flowering of my children ?”

which seems bad Latin; while Attius is very clearly
in the right, inasmuch as the verb that means “to
see” (and in its compound form, “to see into,” or
to envy) governs the case which he connects with
“envies.” We indeed are not permitted by custom
to employ this idiom; but the poet maintains the

1 The Stoics regarded pity, because it is an emotion, as out of
character for a wise man. He should have no self-pity, nor any
emotional feeling of his own pain, and equally little feeling of
another’s pain, Seneca, whose ethical writings are full of pre-
cepts of humanity and kindness, writes: “ Pity is a fault. The
wise man will not pity, but he will succor the distressed.” This
part of the section can be fitly translated only by using the Latin
words. The following is a nearly literal rendering: ‘‘He would
be liable to pity and to enviousness (invidentia, a word coined by
Cicero and, I believe, peculiar to him). I do not say ‘envy’
(invidiam), which is used only.with reference to the specific act
of envying; but invidentia, as derived from invidendo (envying),
may be correctly used, so as to escape the ambiguous term invidia
(envy), —a word derived from excessive looking into another’s
fortune (in and video), as in the Menalippa, ‘Who envies (invi-
dit) the flower (lorem) of my children?’ which seems bad Latin,
yet is very properly used by Attius, inasmuch as video takes the
accusative after it, though modern usage would have connected
flori, and not florem, with invidit.”

152 Cicero’s Tusculan: Disputations.

legitimate license of his craft, and writes under less
restraint.

10. The same person then is liable to pity and.
to envy ; for he who is pained by any person’s ad-
versity is also pained by some other person’s pros-
perity, as Theophrastus, lamenting the death of his
friend Callisthenes, expresses his vexation at Alex-
ander’s prosperity, and thus says that Callisthenes
fell in with a man of very great power and the hap-
piest fortune, but ignorant of the fit ways of using
prosperity. As pity is grief for another’s adversity,
so enviousness is grief for another’s prosperity. He
therefore who is liable to pity is liable also to envy.
But the wise man is not liable to envy; therefore,
not to pity. But were a wise man wont to feel
grief, he would also be wont to feel pity.. There-
fore grief has no place with the wise man. These
things are so said by the Stoics, and their reasoning
is very close and compact! But there is need of a,
broader and fuller statement. Yet paramount re-
gard should be felt for the opinions of those who
employ the most vigorous and, so to speak, the
most manly style of reasoning and. thought. For
the Peripatetics, with whom I am the most nearly
connected, whose fluency, learning and solid sense
cannot be surpassed, do not satisfy me in what they
say about the moderateness of the soul’s perturba-
tions or diseases. Every evil, though moderate, is
an evil, and what we want to prove is that in the

1 Latin, contortius, i. e. “ somewhat tight-twisted.”

On Grief: | 153

wise man there is no evil whatsoever. . Now as the
body, if moderately ill, is not sound, so in the soul
that same moderateness. falls:short of a healthy
state. Therefore our people, after the analogy. of
sick bodies, have applied a name. denoting sick-
ness,! as to many other things, to trouble, anxiety
and. vexation. The Greeks apply a nearly equiva-
lent term to every kind of. perturbation of the soul,
using the word 7a@@os,2 which includes disease, to
designate whatever disturbed movement there may
be in the mind. But we rightly make a distinction
which they do not; for while sickness of soul bears
a strong resemblance: to sickness: of body, lust is
not like sickness, nor yet is excessive joy, which is
a high and exulting pleasure of the soul Nor has
fear a very close likeness to sickness, though nearly
‘allied to grief. But sickness of soul, as sickness of
body, has properly a name not. remote from: pain.
We must then explain the origin of this pain, that
is, the cause that produces sickness in the soul, as
if it were sickness in the body. For as physicians,
when they have ascertained the cause of a disease,
think that its cure is found, so we, having deter-
mined the cause of the soul’s sickness, shall discover
the mode of remedy.

11. Opinion then is the cause, not only of grief,
but also of all other perturbations of soul, of which

1 Aegritudo.
_. ® Which may mean any affection or emotion whatsoever, whether
glad, sorrowful, or neither. See § 4, note..

154 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

there are four kinds, with many subdivisions. Since
every disturbance is a movement of the soul, either
without reason, or in contempt of reason, or in dis-
obedience to reason, and since every such move-
ment is excited by a good or a bad opinion of its
object,! the four kinds of perturbations are equally
divided into two classes. There are two derived
from a good opinion of their objects, of which one
is exultant pleasure, that is, excessively ecstatic
joy, in our high estimation of some great present
good; while the other may be fitly termed “lust,”
which is the immoderate desire, not under the con-
trol of reason, for what is regarded as a great good.
These two kinds then, exultant pleasure and lust,
are excited by a good opinion of their objects, as
the two others, fear and grief, are excited by a bad
opinion of their objects. For fear is an opinion
concerning some great impending evil, and grief is
an opinion concerning some great present evil, and
indeed an opinion freshly formed of an evil so
great that it seems right to be distressed by it; that
is, such that he whom it pains thinks that he ought
to be pained by it. But these perturbations, which,
like so many furies, folly lets loose and excites in
the lives of men, we must resist with all our
strength and with all the means at our command,
if we wish to pass our allotted term of life calmly

1 Latin, aut boni aut mali opinione, — an idiom which is
employed with opinio throughout the section, but which, literally
translated, would not be readily understood.

On Grief. 155

and quietly. The others we will treat of else-
where. Let us now drive away grief, if we can,
inasmuch as you said that a wise man is liable to
grief, while I think that he is not so in any way or
measure. For grief is a thing noisome, wretched,
detestable, worthy of all contempt, to be fled from,
so to speak, with sails and oars.
12. What ought you to think of

“The son of him who stole Hippodamea,
And stained his nuptials with her father’s blood ?” 2

He was indeed the great-grandson of Jupiter. Can
it be then that he is so abject and broken in
spirit ?

‘* Friends, come not near me, not within my shadow,

Lest foul contagion cast its blighting curse,
Such power of guilt inheres within my body.”

1 From the Thyestes of Ennius. The literal rendering of these
two verses could not be forced into English rhythm, even by
repeating the liberty taken with the accents in Hippodaméa. The
literal rendering is: ‘‘ The grandson of Tantalus, the son of Pe-
lops, who in former time by stolen nuptials obtained Hippodamea
from his father-in-law king Oenomaus.” An oracle had predicted
to Oenomaus, king of Pisa in Elis, that he should die by means
of his son-in-law. He therefore proclaimed that he would give
his daughter to the suitor who should win a chariot-race of him,
while all who failed in the race should be put to death. Pelops
bribed the charioteer of Oenomaus to leave the wheels of his char-
iot imperfectly secured, and thus Oenomaus was thrown from it
and fatally injured. The myths concerning the Pelopidae do
not make Thyestes a better man than Atreus; yet it is for the
atrocious crime of Atreus, in killing the sons of Thyestes and
serving them at their father’s table, that the tragedian represents
Thyestes as in the lowest depth of sorrow.

156 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

Will you, Thyestes, thus condemn yourself, and,
bereave yourself of the light of life, because of the
greatness of another’s guilt? What? Do you not
think that son of Phoebus unworthy of his father’s.
light, of whom it is said, —
“ His eyes are sunk, his fleshless body wasted,
His bloodless cheeks corroded by his tears ;
His bristling beard, unshaven and befouled,
Hangs filthily on his discolored breast ?” 4
These evils, O most foolish Aeetes, were not among
those which fortune had brought upon you; but
you added them yourself to that evil, which had
grown old, so that the swelling of the soul for it
had subsided. Grief consists, as I shall show, in
the fresh feeling of evil; but you are mourning
because you miss your kingdom, not your daugh-
ter; for you hated her, and perhaps not without
reason, while you did not take calmly the loss of
your kingdom. It is indeed a shameless sorrow,
when a man consumes himself with grief because
he is not permitted to rule over men that have be-
come free. Dionysius, the tyrant, when expelled
from Syracuse, kept school at Corinth. He could
1 Probably from the Medus of. Pacuvius, or, as some commen-
tators say, of Ennius. Medea, the daughter of Aeetes, during her
flight slew her brother Absyrtus, and strewed his limbs on the
way, to delay her father in his pursuit of her. It is certainly:
conceivable that he may not have lamented the loss of such a
daughter. He subsequently was driven from his kingdom by his

brother, and restored by Medea and her son Medus. The verses
from the tragedy describe the condition in which Medea found
him.

On Grief, 157

not dispense ‘with that continued opportunity of
commanding. But what was ever more shameless
than Tarquin’s making war with those who had not
been able to endure his pride? It is said that,
when he could not be reinstated in his kingdom
by the ‘arms either of the Veientes or of the Latini,
he betook himself to Cumae, and in that city was
consumed by age and grief.

13. Do you then think that it can happen to a
wise man to be overcome by grief, that is, by mis-
ery? Nay more, while every perturbation of the
soul is misery, grief is torture. Lust is attended
by ardor, ecstatic joy by levity, fear by abjectness ;
but grief has, worse than all these, wasting, tor-
ment, distress, noisomeness. It lacerates, corrodes
and utterly consumes the soul. Unless we so di-
vest ourselves of it as to throw it entirely away, we
cannot be otherwise than miserable. Moreover,
‘this is perfectly plain, that grief exists when any
object is so looked upon as to give the idea of a
great evil present and pressing. Epicurus thinks
that grief is naturally inseparable from evil, so
that one who looks upon any evil of considera-
ble magnitude, believing that it has happened to
himself, must fall at once into grief. The Cyre-
naic philosophers think that grief is caused, not
by every evil, but by. that which is unexpected
and unthought of; for whatever is sudden is the
harder to bear. Hence these verses are rightly
praised : —

138 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

‘* At my son’s birth I knew that he was mortal,
And when I sent him to the gates of Troy,
To deadly war, and not to feasts I sent him.”

14. Therefore this premeditation on future events
which long beforehand you have seen coming makes
their advent less grievous. For this reason the
words that Euripides-puts into the mouth of The-
seus are held in high esteem. I beg leave, in ac-
cordance with my frequent habit, to translate them.

**T bore in mind the lessons of a sage,
And thought of ills the future had in store,
Of bitter death, or of an exile’s doom,
Or some vast weight of evil hanging o’er me,
That so, if dire calamity should come,
It could not creep upon me unawares,” 2

But what Theseus says that he had heard from a
sage, Euripides virtually says of himself; for he
had been a disciple of Anaxagoras, who is reported
to have said, on hearing of the death of his son, “I
knew that I had begotten a mortal,” indicating that
such things are bitter to those who have not antici-
pated them. There is then no doubt that all reputed
evils are more severe when they are sudden. There-
fore, though this suddenness is not the sole factor of
extreme grief, yet since foresight and preparation
of mind can do much toward diminishing pain, a

1 From the Telamon of Ennius, and referring to the death of
Ajax, Telamon’s son.

2 These verses are not in any extant tragedy of Euripides,
They are quoted by Plutarch in the Consolation to Apollonius, in
the original, of which Cicero's is a nearly literal translation.

On Grief, 159

man ought to meditate on all things that can hap-
pen to man. Indeed, the wisdom which is pre-
eminently excellent and divine consists in having
human fortunes inwardly perceived and thoroughly
considered, in being surprised by no event when it
comes, in thinking that there is no event that has
not happened which may not happen.

** In prosperous times we best can train our souls
For pain and sorrow, while in thought we dwell
On peril, loss, a son’s disgraceful crime,
A daughter’s illness, or a wife’s decease.
These are the common lot ; expect them all.
What comes beyond your hope account as gain.” 2
15. Now when Terence has expressed so aptly
what he borrowed from philosophy, shall not we
from whose fountains it was drawn both say the
same things better and feel them more uniformly ?
This corresponds to the countenance always the
same, which, as it is reported, Xantippe used to
speak of in her husband Socrates, — always’ the
same, she said, when he went from home and when
he returned. Yet it was not like the face of that old
Marcus Crassus? who, according to Lucilius, laughed
only once in all his life, but a countenance calm
and serene; for so we learn. And there was rightly
the same countenance, when there was no change
made in the mind which moulds the face. I ac-
cept then from the Cyrenaic philosophers these
1 From Terence’s Phormio, Act ii. Scene 1.
2 Surnamed Agelastus, i.e. ‘‘Non-laughing.” Pliny says that
he never laughed.

160 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

arms against’ accidents and events, by which pro-
longed premeditation breaks their force when they
come; and at the same time I think that evil
is so in our opinion, not in its own nature. If it
were in the thing itself, why should it be less
grievous when foreseen? But this is among the
subjects which I can discuss more elaborately, when
we have first considered: the opinion of Epicurus,
who thinks that all who suppose themselves to be
enduring evils must of necessity suffer grief even if
these evils were foreseen and expected, and equally
if they are of long standing. For he says that
evils are neither diminished by time nor lightened
by being premeditated; that meditation on evil
to come, or, it may be, on that which will never
come, is foolish; that every evil is sufficiently an-
noying when it comes; that to him who has always
thought that something adverse may happen to
him that very thought is a perpetual evil; that if
the expected evil should not happen, he would have
incurred voluntary misery in vain; that thus one
would be always in distress, either in suffering evil
or in thinking of it. He depends for the lighten-
ing of grief on two things,—on calling the mind
away from thinking of trouble, and on recalling it
to the contemplation of pleasures. He thinks that
the mind can obey reason, and follow where it
leads. Reason, he says, forbids us to inspect trouble
closely; it draws us away from bitter thoughts; it
dulls the vision for contemplating misery, from

On Grief. 161

which when it has sounded a retreat, it again im-
pels and urges us to behold and to consider with
all our mind the various pleasures of which, with
the memory of those past, and the hope of those to
come, he thinks that the wise man’s life is full.
These things I have said in my way; the Epi-
cureans say them in their way. But let us con-
sider what they say; how, we need not concern
ourselves.

16. In the first place, they are wrong in blaming
the premeditation of things to come; for there is
nothing which so blunts and lightens grief, as the
lifelong habit of thinking that there is no event
which may not happen,—as meditation on the con-
dition of man, —as the law of life, and reflection on
the necessity of obeying it, the effect of which is not
that we are always, but that we are never, sorrow-
ful. Indeed, he who thinks of the nature of things,
of the varying fortune of life, of the weakness of
the human race, does not sorrow when these things
are on his mind, but he then most truly performs
the office of wisdom; for from such thought there
are two consequences, — the one, that he discharges
the peculiar function of philosophy; the other,
that in adversity he has the curative aid of a
threefold consolation: first, because, as he has long
thought what may happen, this sole thought is
of the greatest power in attenuating and diluting
every trouble; next, because he understands that

human fortunes are to be borne in a way befitting
11

162 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

human nature ;! lastly, because he sees that there
is no evil but guilt, while there is no guilt in the
happening of what man could not have prevented.
In point of fact, the recalling of the thought which
Epicurus prescribes, when he calls us away from
looking at evils, is out of the question; for neither
dissembling nor forgetfulness is in our power when
those things which we regard as evil press hard upon
us. They lacerate, vex, sting, inflame, take away the
breath. And do you tell us to forget them, which
is contrary to nature, and at the same time wrest
from us the help which nature gives, that of becom-
ing used to pain? That is indeed a slow remedy,
yet of great efficacy, which comes from long endur-
ance and the lapse of time. You tell me to think
of goods, to forget evils. You would say something,
and indeed what would do credit to a great philos-
opher, if you thought those things good which are
most worthy of man.

17. Suppose that? Pythagoras, or Socrates, or
Plato were to say to me, “ Why are you cast down ?
Or why are you mournful? Or why do you suc-
cumb and yield to fortune, which might perhaps
have had power to torment and sting you, but cer-
tainly was unable to break down your strength?

1 Latin, humana humane ferenda. Possibly hwmane may be
used here in the sense of viriliter, ‘in a manly way,” though I
ean recall no instance in which it is so employed. It seems
always to cost Cicero regret to omit an assonance.

2 Or, literally, ‘‘ If Pythagoras,” etc.

On Grief. 163

There is great power in the virtues. Rouse them,
if perchance they are asleep. Chief of all, Courage
will come to your aid, which will force you to be
of such a mind that you will despise and hold as
of no account whatever can happen to man. Tem-
perance will come, which is moderation,—I called
it ‘frugality’ a little while ago,— which can suffer
you to do nothing basely or meanly ; and what is
there more mean or base than an effeminate man ?
Nat even Justice will permit you to behave thus,
though in this matter there might seem to be very
little room for the exercise of justice, which yet
will tell you that you are doubly unjust when you
both seek what belongs to another, you of mortal
birth demanding the condition of the immortals,
and at the same time take it hard that you have
had to give back what was only lent for your use.
Then what answer will you give to Prudence,
which teaches that Virtue herself is sufficient, as
for a good life, so too for a happy life? If she
depends on conditions from without, and does
not spring from and return to herself, embrac-
ing all that belongs to her, and seeking nothing
from any other source, I do not understand why
she is to be either in words so adorned with the
most earnest eloquence, or in deed so sedulously
sought.” If it is to these goods! that you recall

1 The reference is to the close of § 16, ‘‘those things which are
most worthy of man.” The imagined speech of one of the old
philosophers closes with the words ‘‘so sedulously sought.”

164 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

me, Epicurus, I obey; I follow; I take you for a
leader ; I forget evils, as you bid me, and the more
easily as I do not believe that they are to be
classed among evils. But you transfer my thoughts
to pleasures. To what pleasures? To those of the
body, I believe, or to those which are thought of
in memory or hope for the body’s sake. Is there
anything else? Do I not rightly interpret your
opinion? For the disciples of Epicurus are wont
to deny that we know what he says. This, how-
ever, he does say, and this old Zeno,! that sharp
little man, the most acute of Epicureans, in my
hearing at Athens used to argue and proclaim with
a loud voice, namely, that he is happy who enjoys
present pleasures, and expects to enjoy the like
during most or all of his life, without the interven-
tion of pain, or who, if pain intervenes, bears it in
mind that if very severe, it must be brief, if pro-
longed, attended by more of enjoyment than of evil
He who is thus disposed in mind, say they, will be
happy, especially if he is content with the goods
that he has already obtained, and fears neither
death nor the gods.

18. You have the outline that Epicurus gives of
a happy life, expressed in the words of Zeno, so
that it cannot be pronounced spurious. What
then? Will the proposal and thought of such a

1 He was regarded as second in ability to no Epicurean phi-
losopher of his time, and is repeatedly spoken of as such by
Cicero in other writings.

On Grief. 165

life avail for the relief of Thyestes, or of Aeetes
of whom I have just spoken, or of Telamon driven
from his country, living in exile and poverty, of
whom it was said in wonder,

*¢ Ts this the Telamon, extolled to heaven,
Admired by all and praised by every tongue?” !

Now if, to use the phrase of this same poet, one’s
“soul collapses with his fortune,” the remedy must
be sought from those grave philosophers of ancient
time, not from these partisans of pleasure. For
what is the supply of goods that they announce ?
Suppose that painlessness is indeed the supreme
good (although this is not called pleasure; but
there is no need now of dwelling on details), is that
the point to which we must be brought in order to
assuage sorrow? Be it so, that pain is the greatest
of evils: is he who is not in pain, being freed from
evil, therefore immediately in the enjoyment of the
supreme good? Why do we hesitate, Epicurus, to
acknowledge that we give the name of pleasure to
that which you are not ashamed so to call? Are
these your words, or are they not? In the book
which contains all your doctrine (for I will merely
translate your language literally, lest I may be
thought to falsify your meaning), you say, “Nor
is there anything which I can understand to be
good, if we omit from our estimate those pleasures
which are perceived by the taste, those which are

1 From the Telamon of Ennius.

166 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

perceived by the hearing and in music, those agree-
able movements which the eye perceives in exter-
nal forms, and such other pleasures as are produced
in the entire man by any sense whatsoever. Nor
indeed can it be said that the mind rejoices only in
present goods; for I have known the mind to re-
joice equally in the hope of the various things that
I have named above, with the expectation that the
possession of them would be free from pain.” This
is in his own words, so that one can understand
what pleasure it is that Epicurus would have recog-
nized as such. A little farther down he says: “I
have often asked those who were called wise what
there was for them to leave among goods, if they
took away those that I have named, unless they
meant to pour forth mere empty words. I could
learn nothing from them; for except as they talk
boastfully of virtue and wisdom, they teach noth-
ing except the way by which the pleasures that I
have named may be obtained.” ‘What follows is
in the same strain, and the whole book, which has
the supreme good for its subject, is full of such
words and opinions. Will you then recall Telamon
to a life of this kind to lighten his grief? or if you
see any one of your friends broken down by sorrow,
will you give him a sturgeon rather than some
treatise of Socrates? Will you exhort him to hear
the notes of the organ! rather than the words of
Plato? ‘Will you take him to a flower-show? or

1 Latin, hydrauli, i. e. a water-organ.

—" ~

On Grief: 167

put a nosegay to his nostrils? or burn perfumes ?
or will you tell him to have his brow crowned with
garlands and roses? If to these things you were
to add yet one pleasure more,! you would then have
entirely wiped away every sorrow.

19. Epicurus must admit all this, or else what I
have given in literal translation from his book must
be expunged, or rather the whole book must be
thrown away ; for it is full of pleasures. We must
ask then how to remove the grief of him? who says,

** My fortune fails me; not my race. From kings

I sprang. Behold from what a height,
What wealth, what regal splendor I have fallen.”

What? Is a cup of honied wine, or something
else of that kind, to be thrust upon him, that he
may cease to mourn? The same poet® introduces
another character, saying,

‘Thrown, Hector,* from on high, I claim thine aid.”

We ought certainly to help her; for she asks
assistance.

** What succor shall I seek? Whom shall I trust
For aid in flight, in exile for a refuge ?
Palace and city are no longer mine,

1 There can be no doubt that Cicero here refers to a coarser
pleasure than he is willing to name.

2 Probably Telamon, though some commentators say that
Thyestes is referred to.

8 Ennius: from his tragedy of Andromache ; and all the pas-
sages that follow belong to the part of Andromache,

* She invokes his shade as a living presence,

168 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

My country’s altar-stones are overthrown ;
Her ancient temples rear their blackened walls ;
Their pavements smoke with unextinguished fires.”

You know what follows, and this especially : —

*¢Q father, country, Priam’s royal house,
O temple with thy lofty-sounding gates,
I saw thee standing in barbaric} splendor,
With fretted ceiling and rich-sculptured walls,
With gold and ivory royally bedecked.”

O admirable poet! though despised by those who
sing Euphorion’s? songs. He feels that everything
sudden and unexpected is the more grievous to be
borne. What does he then add to the picture of
accumulated royal splendor which seemed destined
to perpetuity ?

* All this I saw swept by consuming flames,

And Priam slain within the temple gates,

Jove’s altar foully reeking with his blood.”
Admirable poetry ! for it is profoundly sad, alike in
subject, in words and in rhythm. Let us take her
grief from her. How? Let us lay her on a bed of
down. Let us bring a singing-woman to her. Let
us give her sweet ointment. Let us load a salver

1 Everything Oriental was termed ‘‘ barbaric,” and the East
was more lavish of gold and of costly ornament of every kind
than Greece ever was, still more so than Rome was in the time
of Ennius.

2 A very licentious poet, whose songs, not without a certain
sweetness of diction, but of the vilest type as to their moral char-
acter, had great popularity among convivialists of the baser sort.
Happily but three verses of his, and they from as many different
songs, have been preserved.

i
.
x
‘
)

ee Se

On Grief 169

with delicious drinks, and provide something for
her to eat. These are the goods by which the
severest griefs may be removed; for you just now
said that you knew nothing of any other goods. I
would indeed agree with Epicurus that one ought
to be recalled from grief to the contemplation of
the things that are good, if we were only of one
mind as to what is good.

20. Some one will say, “What? Do you think
that Epicurus meant thus, and that his opinions
were in favor of sensuality?” Not by any means.
I see many things said by him in accordance with
the severest moral principle, many things admirably
said. So, as I have often said, I am treating of his
subtile logic, not of his morals. Although he spurn
the pleasures which he praised, yet I cannot forget
what seems to him the supreme good. Not only
did he use the word “ pleasure,” but he also de-
fined what he meant by it, specifying “taste, and
embraces, and games, and songs, and those objects
of sight which affect the eyes pleasantly.” Am I
making thisup? DoT lie? If so, I ask to be set
right. For what is my endeavor save to have the
truth made plain as to every part of our inquiry ?
Moreover, he says too that pleasure does not grow
when pain is taken away, and that to be free from
pain is the highest pleasure. In these few words he
makes three great mistakes. First, he contradicts
himself; for in the passage that I quoted a little
while ago he says that he has no idea of any good

170 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

unless such as will, so to speak, titillate the senses
with pleasure, and now he says that to be without
pain is the supreme good. Can one be more incon-
sistent with himself? The second mistake is that,
while there are three states, one that of gladness,
then that of pain, thirdly, that in which there is
neither gladness nor pain, he here identifies the first
and the third, and makes no discrimination between
pleasure and the absence of pain. The third mistake
he makes in common with some others, namely, that
while virtue is the prime object of pursuit, and re-
sort is had to philosophy for the purpose of attaining
it, he regards the supreme good as something apart
from virtue. Yet he often praises virtue. In like
manner, Caius Gracchus, when he had made the most
profuse largesses so as to exhaust the public treas-
ury, made speeches in the interest of the treasury.
Why should I listen to words when I see deeds ?
Piso surnamed Frugi had always spoken against
the law for distributing corn to the people; but
when the law was passed, he, though an ex-consul,
came to receive the corn. Gracchus saw him stand-
ing in the crowd, and asked him in the hearing of
the Roman people how he could consistently apply
for corn under the law which he had opposed. He
replied, “I may not be willing that you should
distribute my property to the people man by man;
yet if you do so, I may ask for my part.” Did not
this grave and wise man thus declare with no little
emphasis that the public property was wasted by

On Grief, 171

the Sempronian law? Yet read the speeches of
Gracchus, and you will say that he had the treas-
ury under his special charge. Epicurus denies that
one can live pleasantly unless he live virtuously.
He denies that fortune has any power against the
wise man. He prefers meagre to luxurious living.
He says that there is no time when the wise man
is not happy. All these things are worthy of a
philosopher; but they are repugnant to pleasure.
It is said that he does not mean that pleasure to
which objection is made. But whatever pleasure
he may name, he names that which contains no
part of virtue. Suppose, however, that we do not
understand what he means by pleasure, do we not
understand what he means by pain? I deny then
that it belongs to him who measures the extremity
of evil by pain! to make any mention of virtue.

21. Indeed the Epicureans, excellent men (for
there is no class of people that bear less malice),
complain that I talk zealously against Epicurus, as
if it were a contest for honor and dignity. Yet the
case is simply this, that to me the supreme good
seems to be in the soul, to him in the body; to me,
in virtue, to him in pleasure. On this issue they
give battle, and implore the defence of their neigh-
bors; and many there are who fly at once to their
call. I, on the other hand, do not profess to be
anxious in the matter, regarding as I do the ques-

1 Or better, though less literally, ‘‘who makes pain the sole
measure of evil,” and thus the sole constituent of evil.

172 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

tion which they would keep open as already settled.
For what? Is our controversy about the Punic
war, as to which when Marcus Cato had one opin-
ion and Lucius Lentulus another, there yet was
never any quarrel between them? These Epicure-
ans are too angry, especially as they are defending
a not very spirited opinion, for which they dare not
plead in the senate, nor in the assembly of the
people, nor with the army, nor before the censors.
But with them I will argue at some other time and
place, and with the purpose, not of starting a con-
flict, but of yielding easily to them if they speak
the truth. Only I will give them my advice. If
it be absolutely true that the wise man refers every-
thing to the body, or, to speak with more propriety,
does nothing that is not expedient, that is, makes
utility to himself his sole standard, since these
opinions are not deserving of praise, let them re-
joice in them in their own bosoms, and cease to
speak boastfully about them.

22. It remains for us to consider the opinion of
the Cyrenaics, who think that there is grief only
when anything happens unexpectedly. This is in-
deed an important circumstance, as I have already
said. I know that it seemed even to Chrysippus?

1 A controversy in itself not unlikely to be waged with warmth
of feeling, while Cicero represents the question at issue between
him and the Epicureans as in its nature less likely to rouse strong
feeling than a discussion involving conflicting opinions about

well-known men and measures.
2 One of the most rigid of Stoics,

eS

=

On Grief, 173

that what is not foreseen strikes a heavier blow;
but this does not account for its entire weight,
although the unwarned approach of an enemy occa-
sions somewhat more disturbance than an expected
attack, and a sudden storm at sea strikes the sailor
with more terror than a storm foreseen, and the
case is similar in almost every event. But when
you look closely into the nature of things unfore-
seen, you will find the only difference to be that
anything sudden seems greater than if it had been
expected, and this for two reasons,— one, that we
have not time to consider the actual magnitude of
what happens; the other, that when it seems that
the event, if foreseen, might have been guarded
against, a feeling of blame connected with the evil
enhances the grief. That this is so! the lapse of
time shows; for it is so far availing in the case of
lasting evils as not only to assuage grief, but often
to remove it entirely. Many Carthaginians were
in servitude in Rome, as many Macedonians were
after the capture of King Perseus. I, when I was a
young man, saw some Corinthians? in the Pelopon-
nesus. These could have made Andromache’s lam-
entation, “All this I saw;”? but they had perchance
ceased so to sing; for in countenance, in speech,
in their entire appearance and behavior, you might

1 That suddenness makes grief the greater.

2 After the destruction of Corinth by Memmius. These Corin-
thians may have been in slavery; if not, they were in enforced

exile.
8 See § 19.

174 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

have taken them for citizens of Argos or of Sicyon.
Indeed, the aspect of the walls of Corinth, as it
came to me suddenly, had already affected me more
than it did the Corinthians, whose minds prolonged
thought on their condition had made callous by the
mere lapse of time. I once read a book of Clitom-
achus? which, after the overthrow of Carthage, he
sent to his captive fellow-citizens for their consola-
tion, and in this, as he said, he had copied a treatise
of Carneades,? containing what he wrote to contro-
vert the proposition, that the wise man would seem
grieved if his country were subdued by a foreign
power. In that case the philosopher applies to the
fresh disaster such remedy as is not needed in a
calamity of long standing; and if that book had
been sent to the captives some years later, it would
have been not wounds, but scars that needed heal-
ing. Gradually and step by step grief is worn
away,—not that the cause of grief usually is or
can be changed, but experience teaches what reason
ought to have taught, that misfortunes are really
less than they at first seemed.

23. What need is there at all, some one will say,
of reason, or of the consolation which we are wont
to offer when we wish to relieve the pain of those

1 A disciple of Carneades, and himself a voluminous writer,
having left no less than four hundred books. ~

2 The founder of the New Academy, who carried his philo-
sophical scepticism so far that Clitomachus, after years of close

intimacy, said that he never knew his master’s actual opinion on
any subject whatsoever.

.

On Grief. 175

in affliction? For we can hardly fail to have this
at hand, that nothing ought to seem unexpected ;
yet who will bear an untoward event with less dis-
comfort for knowing that it was necessary that
some such thing should happen to man? Such
utterances subtract nothing from the sum of evil.
They only assert that nothing has happened which
might not have been anticipated. Still, sentiments
of this kind are not wholly without avail for com-
fort, though I doubt whether they have very much
power. The unexpectedness of events then has
not such force that all grief springs from it. The
grief perhaps is thus made heavier; but it is not
their suddenness that makes them seem greater ;
they seem greater because they are recent, not be-
cause they are sudden. There are then two ways
of ascertaining the truth, not only as to those things
that seem evil, but equally as to those things that
seem good. We either inquire what and how great
is the thing in question in its very nature, as this
is sometimes done concerning poverty, whose bur-
den we lighten by discussion, showing how small
and few are the things which nature needs; or from
the subtilty of discussion we refer to examples, here
mentioning Socrates, here again Diogenes, then that
verse of Caecilius,!

‘* A sordid garb is oft the robe of wisdom.”
For as the force of poverty is always one and the

1 A comic poet contemporary with Ennius.

176 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

same, what reason can be given why, when Caius
Fabricius found it tolerable, others should say that
they cannot bear it? Closely allied to this mode
of giving comfort is that which shows that what
has happened belongs to human fortunes; for this
not only recognizes what belongs to the human
race, but signifies that things are tolerable which
others have borne and are bearing.

24. Is poverty the subject? Many of the pa-
tient poor are named. Or the despising of civic
honors?! There are brought to notice many of
those who have lived without them, and indeed of
those who were happier for that reason; the lives
of men, specified by name, who have preferred pri-
vate ease to public office are spoken of with praise;
nor does one fail to quote the anapaest of the most
powerful king of his time? who commends an old
man, and pronounces him happy, because he will
reach the close of life without fame or distinction.
In like manner, by way of example, those who have
been bereaved of children are spoken of, and the
sorrows of those who suffer severely in any way are
soothed by instances of similar affliction. Thus the

1 In general, a Roman whose birth, position or ability would
make him a possible candidate for civic office, regarded it as one
of the greatest afflictions that he should remain in private life.

2 Agamemnon. In the Iphigenia in Aulis. Euripides, in the
opening scene, represents Agamemnon as meeting by night an old
man, to whom he says, ‘‘I envy thee, old man, and I envy that
man who has passed through life without danger, unknown,
inglorious ; but I less envy those in honor.”

‘ i
Ve a

On Grief. 177

endurance of others makes misfortunes seem much
less than they would otherwise be accounted, so
that the afflicted come gradually to think how
largely opinion had exaggerated fact. This same
thing is suggested in Telamon’s

‘* At my son’s birth I knew that he was mortal,” ?
in that saying of Theseus,

**T thought what ills the future had in store,” ?

and in that of Anaxagoras, “I knew that I had
begotten a mortal.” All these men, meditating
long on human affairs, came to the conclusion that
they were by no means to be feared in proportion
to the general opinion concerning them. Indeed it
seems to me that the same thing happens to those
who meditate on misfortune beforehand as to those
whom time cures, with this distinction, that the
former are relieved by a certain exercise of reason,
the latter by nature. In either case it is learned —
which is the main thing to be regarded — that the
evil which is to be accounted the greatest is by no
means sufficient to subvert the happiness of life.
Thus it appears that the blow may be heavier from
an unexpected event, but not, as some think, that
when equal calamities occur to two persons, it is
only the one on whom the affliction falls suddenly
that is affected by grief. Nay, on the other hand,
some sorrow-stricken persons are said to have been
the more grievously afflicted by being reminded of

1 See § 13. 2 See § 14. 8 See § 14.
12

178 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

this common condition of humanity, that we are
born under the law that no one can be always
exempt from evil.

25. Therefore, as I see that my friend Antiochus!
writes, Carneades used to blame Chrysippus for
quoting with approval these verses of Euripides, —

‘** No mortal is there unassailed by pain ;

Few households are there not bereaved of children ;

And all that dwell beneath the sun are death-doomed.

No need then is there for distress and dread.

Earth must be rendered back to earth, and life

Reaped like ripe corn ; for so has Fate ordained.”
He said that language like this is of no avail for
the assuaging of grief, but that it is only the greater
reason for painful thought that we have fallen upon
a necessity so cruel, and that talking about the evils
endured by others is fitted to comfort only the ma-
levolent. I indeed think very differently ; for the
necessity of bearing human fortunes restrains us
from fighting, as it were, with God, and warns us
that we are but men; while examples are adduced,
not to delight a malevolent mind, but that the
afflicted person may feel that he has to bear what
he sees many to have borne calmly and quietly.
Every possible mode of support must be employed
for those who are prostrated and cannot contain
themselves* by reason of the greatness of their

1 One of the chief luminaries of the New Academy, and Cice-
ro’s principal teacher when he was a student in Athens.

2 From the lost tragedy of Hypsipyle.
8 Latin, cohaerere, literally, “‘stick together ;” and it is in

es

a

ane fe it Milt a

On Grief. 179

grief. It is on account of this extremity of afflic-
tion, as Chrysippus thinks, that the Greeks call
affliction Avzrnv,! as virtually the dissolution of the
whole man. All this sorrow may be rooted out, as
I said in the beginning, by explaining the cause of
grief, which is nothing else than an opinion and
judgment as to the existence of a present and
pressing evil. Thus bodily pain, the very most
intense, is borne with the hope of some good issue ;
and an honored and illustrious life yields such con-
solation that those who have thus lived are either
untouched by grief, or very slightly pained by it.

26. But if to the opinion as to the presence of
a great evil is added the opinion that it is fitting,
right and a matter of duty to bear what may have
happened with sorrow, then at length is brought
about the severe disturbance of mind attendant
upon grief. From opinion proceed those various
and detestable forms of mourning, squalid attire,
effeminate laceration of cheeks, breast, thighs, beat-
ing of the head. Hence Agamemnon is represented
by both Homer and Attius as

‘* His unshorn locks tearing in agony,”

on which Bion facetiously says, that “the great fool
of a king plucked out his hair in mourning as if his

contrast with this word that solwtio, i.e. ‘‘ dissolution,” or * fall-
ing to pieces,” is used in the following sentence.

1 “‘Grief,” or ‘‘ distress.” Cicero evidently regards this word as
allied, derivatively, with \vc1s, which means ‘‘dissolution.” Plato
—the best authority possible — gives the same derivation to \vr7.

180 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

sorrow would be relieved by baldness.” But peo-
ple do all these things because they think it proper
to do so. Therefore Aeschines inveighs against
Demosthenes for offering sacrifice } the seventh day
after his daughter’s death. And how rhetorically,
how copiously! What an array of opinions does
he bring together! What words does he hurl at
his antagonist! giving you to understand that
there is no liberty forbidden to the orator. But
no one would approve of this, unless we had it
ingrafted in our minds that all good men ought to
be in the utmost affliction on the death of their
kindred. It is for this reason that some in distress
of mind resort to solitary places, as Homer says of
Bellerophon,

** He wandered sorrowing in the Aleian fields,
His heart devouring, human footprints shunning.”

Niobe, I suppose, is turned to stone because of her
unbroken silence in sorrow; while it is thought
that Hecuba was changed into a dog on account of
a certain bitterness and madness of soul. There
are yet others who in sorrow often take delight in
conversing with Solitude herself, like that nurse in
the play of Ennius, —

‘* Fain would I in my wretchedness proclaim
To heaven and earth the sorrows of Medea.”

1 On the receipt of the news of King Philip’s death, Demos-
thenes bore a prominent part in the festal offering, crowned and
clad in white.

EN Re tap

On Grief. 181

27. All these things afflicted persons do because
they think them in accordance with right, truth
and obligation; and that they are done from a sense
of duty is shown especially by this, — that if those
who would wish to maintain the position of mourn-
ers chance to act more naturally or to speak more
cheerfully, they instantly recall themselves to sad-
ness, and charge themselves with wrong because
they have made an intermission in their show of
sorrow. Mothers and teachers, too, are wont to
reprove children, not by words alone, but even by
stripes, and thus force them to mourn if they say
or do anything merrily while the family mourning
lasts. What? When the mourning ceases, and it
appears that the sorrow has accomplished no val-
uable purpose, is it not perfectly manifest that
it was all a matter of free choice? What does
that self-punisher, the “Eavrov tipwpovpevos! of
Terence say ?

** Chremes, my son receives less harm from me
While I become as wretched as I can.”
He determines to be miserable. But does any one
so determine unless of his own free will ?

**T count myself worthy of every evil.”

He accounts himself deserving of evil unless he
be wretched. What is to be said of those whom
circumstances will not suffer to mourn? Thus

1 The Greek name of Terence’s Heautontimorwmenos, or the
‘* Self-punisher.”

182 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

according to Homer the many slaughters and deaths
of every day appease sorrow. Ulysses says:
‘¢ So many fall around us every day
That we can find no leisure for our grief.

Then calmly let us bury those that die,
And each day’s sorrow end with each day’s tears.”

It is then in your power to cast away sorrow
at pleasure, if occasion demands. Now since this
thing is within our own power, is there any occa-
sion of which we may not, fitly avail ourselves for
laying aside care and grief? It was evident that
those who saw Cneius Pompeius falling under his
wounds, while they feared for themselves in be-
holding that most bitter and miserable spectacle,
seeing themselves surrounded by the hostile fleet,
did nothing then save to urge the rowers to seek
safety by flight; after their arrival:at Tyre they
began to mourn and lament. Fear then could in
their case repel grief; shall not reason and true
wisdom have equal power ?

28. But what is there that can be of more avail
for the laying aside of sorrow, than its being under-
stood that it is of no profit and is endured to no
purpose? Now if it can be laid aside, one can also
refrain from taking it up. It must be acknowl-
edged then that grief is assumed by one’s own will
and judgment. This is shown by the patience of
those who, after having suffered often and much,
bear more easily whatever happens, and. think that
they have hardened themselves against fortune,

‘
t

Ce —

a a

On Grief. 183

like that character in the play of Euripides who
says, —
‘* Tf now the first sad day had dawned on me,
Nor had I sailed upon a sea of sorrow,
It were with me as with the colt unbroken
That rears and plunges as the spur strikes deep ;
But woe succeeding woe has made me torpid.”}

Since then weariness of misfortunes makes grief
lighter, the necessary inference is that the event
itself is not the cause and fountain of the sorrow.
Do not the most eminent philosophers, while they
have not yet fully attained wisdom, understand
that they are enduring the greatest evil possible ?
For they are unwise, and there is no greater evil
than unwisdom. Yet they do not mourn for this.
How so? Because to this class of evils, the lack
of wisdom, there is not affixed the opinion that it is
right, and just, and a part of duty, to grieve, while
we do affix this opinion to that kind of grief,
reputed the greatest, to which the forms of mourn-
ing belong. Aristotle, blaming the earlier philoso-
phers who thought philosophy already perfected
by their genius, says that they were either the
most foolish or the most boastful of men, but that
considering the great progress made within a few
years, it will not be long before philosophy will
have reached perfection. Theophrastus, too, in dy-
ing is reported to have accused Nature because she
had given to stags and crows a long life which is

1 From a lost tragedy.

184 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations,

of no consequence to them, to men to whom it is a
matter of the greatest concern, a life so very short;
and to have said that could human life have been
longer, it might have sufficed for perfection in all the
arts, and for the attainment of every kind of learn-
ing. Did he therefore complain that he must cease
to be when he had just begun to see these things ?
What? Of other philosophers do not all the best
and wisest confess that they are ignorant of many
things, and that they need to learn many things
over and over? Yet aware that they are stuck fast
in the midst of unwisdom, than which there is noth-
ing worse, they are not weighed down by grief; for
there is here no admixture of the opinion as to the
duty of sorrow. What is to be said of those who
think that men ought not to mourn? Among these
were Quintus Maximus who carried to the funeral-
pile his son, an ex-consul, Lucius Paullus who lost
two young sons, Marcus Cato whose son died when
he was praetor elect, and such others as I have
named in my book entitled Consolation. What
kept these men calm, except that they thought
that mourning and grief do not belong to a man?
Therefore as others, thinking it right, are accus-
tomed to surrender themselves to grief, these men,
thinking such compliance disgraceful, repelled grief.
From this it is inferred that grief is not in the
nature of things, but in opinion.

29. On the other side it is asked, who is so far
demented that he will grieve voluntarily? “Grief

On Grief, 185

is brought on by nature, to which,” they say, “even
your own? Crantor thinks it necessary to yield;
for it is pressing and urgent, and cannot be re-
sisted.” Thus in the play of Sophocles, Oileus,
who had before comforted Telamon, was broken
down when he heard of the death of his own son;
and it is said of his change of mind: —

** No comforter is so endowed with wisdom
That, while he soothes another’s heavy grief,
If altered Fortune turns on him her blow,
He will not bend beneath the sudden shock,
And spurn the consolation he had given.” 2

Those who reason thus endeavor to show that na-
ture can in no wise be withstood; yet they confess
that men take upon themselves severer sorrow than
nature makes necessary. What madness then is it
for us, also, to require this of them! But there
are reasons, it is said, for assuming the burden of
sorrow. In the first place, there is the opinion of
the presence of an actual evil, which seen and be-
lieved, grief necessarily follows. Then it is imag-
ined that it is even gratifying to the dead to make
great lamentation for them. To this is added a
womanish superstition in the idea that the immor-
tal gods are more easily satisfied if men confess
themselves beaten down and prostrated by their
stroke. But most persons do not see how mutually

1 Your own, i. e. Cicero’s own. Crantor was a Platonist of the
old school, and a specially favorite author with Cicero,
2 From a lost tragedy.

186 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

repugnant these reasons are; for they praise those
who die with equanimity, and yet think those wor-
thy of censure who bear another’s death with like
equanimity, as if what is said in the dialect of
lovers were in any way possible, that one should
have more affection for another than for himself.
It is very noble, and at the same time, if we look
into the matter, it is right and fitting, that we love
those who are dearest to us as much as we love
ourselves; but it is impossible for us to love them
more. In friendship it is by no means to be de-
sired that my friend should love me more than
himself, or that I should love him more than my-
self. Were this so, a confusion of life and of all its
duties would ensue.

30. But of this on some other occasion. ' It is
sufficient now that we do not ascribe our misery to
the loss of friends, and that we do not love them
more than they desire if they are still conscious,
or in any case more than we love ourselves. Now
when it is said that most persons derive no relief
from: the consolations administered to them, and it
is added that the comforters themselves confess
that they are miserable when Fortune turns her
assault upon them, both these assertions are easily
disposed of; for these are not defects of nature, but
we ourselves are to blame for them. Here we have
ample right to make the charge of folly ; for those
who are not relieved invite wretchedness upon
themselves, and those who do not bear their own

On Grief. 187

calamities in the spirit which they recommend to
others are not more faulty than most other persons,
for instance, than the avaricious who reproach their
like, and the trumpeters of their own fame who
reprove those who are covetous of fame. It is the
property of folly to see the faults of others, to for-
get its own. But that grief is removed by time is
the strongest proof that its force is contingent, not
on time, but on continuous thought upon the cause
of grief; for if the event is the same and the man is
the same, how can there be any change in the sor-
row, if there be no change either in the cause of the
sorrow or in him who mourns?! It is then the
continuous thought that there is no evil in the event,
not mere length of time, that cures sorrow.

31.. Some? speak to me of the mean between ex-
tremes which ought to be observed. If this mean
as to grief be natural, what need is there of conso-
lation? Nature will determine the measure. But
if it be a matter of opinion, let the opinion be
wholly removed. I think that I have made it suf-

1 Here Cicero forgets that though the event is the same, its
bearing on the happiness of the person afflicted by it may not
continue the same. The fact of the death of a friend remains
unchanged, and is thought of years afterward as if the grief were
still fresh. But the place which he filled in his friend’s outward
life is in process of time more or less filled by others, and thus
the, occasions on which he is vividly reminded of his loss are less
frequent.

2 The Peripatetics, who maintained that in every matter of

moral interest or duty the way between two extremes is the right,
and the only right way.

188 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

ficiently plain that the opinion that an evil is pres-
ent constitutes grief, this opinion including the
feeling that grief is a matter of obligation. Zeno
rightly adds to this definition that the opinion with
regard to the present evil must be recent. But
“recent” is so interpreted as to embrace not only
what happened a little while ago; but as long as
there is in the supposed evil a force which retains
its vigor and freshness, it is fitly called “recent.”
For instance, Artemisia, the wife of Mausolus, king
of Caria, who built that splendid tomb at Halicar-
nassus, lived in sorrow as long as she lived, and
wasted away because worn out by it. To her that
opinion was recent every day; but it cannot be
called “recent” when time has withered it. These
then are the duties of those who administer con-
solation,— to remove grief entirely, to moderate it,
to draw it off as much as possible, to suppress it
and not suffer it to flow farther, or to bring over
the thoughts to other subjects. There are those
who, with Cleanthes, think it the sole duty of the
comforter to show that the object of sorrow was
not at all an evil. There are those, like the Peripa-
tetics, who would make it not a great evil. There
are those, like Epicurus, who lead the thoughts
away from evils to goods. There are those who
think it enough to show that what has happened
might have been expected, and is therefore not an
evil. Chrysippus thinks that in consolation the

1 One of the most rigid of the Stoics.

— ih aie —

On Grief, 189

main thing is to remove the opinion of the afflicted
person that he is discharging an obligation that is
just and due. Then there are some who unite all
these modes of consolation. Different persons are
moved in different ways. Thus in my book enti-
tled Consolation I have thrown together almost
every topic; for my own mind was in agitation
when I wrote it, and I tried in it every method of
cure. But the right time must be taken in dis-
eases of the mind no less than in those of the body.
Thus the Prometheus of Aeschylus, when it has
been said to him,

‘*T think, Prometheus, you agree with me
That wrath and rage admit the cure of reason,”

answers,

“* Tf one apply the cure in fitting time,
Nor with rude hands smite on the rankling wound.”

32. In administering consolation, then, the first
remedy is to show that what has happened is either
no evil, or a very slight evil; the second, to dis-
course on the common condition of life, and espe-
cially on anything that may be peculiar in the
condition of the person afflicted; the third, to de-
monstrate the extreme folly of wearing one’s self
out with fruitless sorrow, from which it is well un-
derstood that nothing is to be gained. The comfort
that Cleanthes gives is adapted only to the wise
man who is not in need of consolation; for were
you to convince a person in sorrow that there is no

190 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

evil except what is morally vile, you would have
taken from him not only his sorrow, but also his
unwisdom.! But another time is more appropriate
for such teaching. Yet it seems to me that Cle-
anthes did not see clearly enough that grief may
sometimes be the consequence of that very thing
which he acknowledges to be the greatest of evils.
For what shall we say when Socrates had con-
vinced Alcibiades that he was nothing of a man, and
that there was no difference between him, though
of noble birth, and a porter, and when Alcibiades
was stricken with grief on hearing this, and with
tears begged Socrates to endue him with virtue
and to drive his baseness out of him? What shall
we say, Cleanthes? Was there no evil in what
affected Alcibiades with grief? Then again, what
mean those sayings of Lycon,? who, making light
of grief, says that it is excited by small matters,
by discomforts of fortune and of the body, not by
evils of the soul? What then? Did not what
Alcibiades mourned consist of evils and faults of
the soul? Enough has been already said about the
consolation which Epicurus proffers.

33. “This does not happen to you alone,” is in-
deed not the surest consolation, though frequently

1 Thus making him a wise man, and therefore in no need of
consolation.

2 An eminent Peripatetic philosopher, who flourished in Athens
in the third century B.c., and wrote a book on the Supreme
Good, to which undoubtedly Cicero here refers.

On Grief 191

employed and often serviceable. It is serviceable,
as I have said, but not always, or to all; for there
are those who reject it. But the form in which it
is presented makes a difference; for it ought to be
shown not how men are generally affected by this
particular trouble, but how it has been borne by
all who have borne it wisely. The consolation
offered by Chrysippus?! rests on a solid foundation
of truth, but is applied with difficulty to the spe-
cial occasion of sorrow. It is a great undertaking
to prove to one in affliction that he is mourning
of his own accord, because he thinks that he ought
so todo. As in cases before the courts, or in the
several kinds of legal controversy, we do not always
use the same mode of statement, but adapt our
method to the occasion, the subject, the person, so
in the relief of sorrow we must consider, of what
mode of cure each person is susceptible. But I
have wandered, I know not how, from the subject
of discourse that you proposed. Your inquiry was
about the wise man, to whom what is free from
wrong must seem either no evil or so small an evil
that wisdom can bury it out of sight, who makes
no pretence or claim for grief on the score of opin-
ion, and who does not think it right that he should
be put to extreme torture by grief, than which
nothing can be worse. Though the special subject
of inquiry proposed at this time was not whether
there is any evil except what may be termed mor-
1 See § 31.

192 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

ally vile, yet reason, as it seems to me, has so
trained us as to see that whatever evil there is in
sorrow is not natural, but created by our free judg-
ment and false opinion. I have now treated of the
kind of grief, which alone so holds the foremost
place that, were it removed, we should have no
great trouble in seeking remedies for the others.

34, There are certain things that are usually
said about poverty, certain sian too, about a
life destitute of distinction and fame. There are
separate dissertations on exile, on the destruction
of one’s country, on servitude, on bodily infirmity,
on blindness, on every event to which the name
of calamity is ordinarily given. These the Greeks
distribute into single treatises and single books;
for they seek employment, while their treatises are
full of interesting matter. Indeed, as physicians,
while curing the whole body, apply their remedies
to even the least part of the body if it is in pain, so
philosophy, when it has removed grief in its entire-
ness, continues its work, if there remains any false
notion, whencesoever derived, if poverty groans,
if dishonor stings, if exile sheds aught of gloom,
or if there is any one of the forms of calamity of
which I have spoken, and if there are consolations
peculiarly belonging to special conditions of things,
of which you shall, indeed, hear whenever you
wish. But we must return to the same principle,
that all grief is very far from the wise man, be-
cause it is empty, because it is assumed in vain,

ee

On Grief. 193

because it springs not from nature, but from judg-
ment, from opinion, from a certain self-invitation
to grieve when we have determined that it ought
to be done. Take this away, which is all volun-
tary, and grief in its most sorrowful form will be re-
moved, yet there will be left now and then a pang
or a twinge of uneasiness. This one is at liberty
to call natural, if he will only drop the name of
“orief,’ which, melancholy, offensive, deathlike, can-
not coexist, can, so to speak, in no wise dwell, with
wisdom. And the roots of grief, how many are
they, and how bitter! When the trunk is over-
thrown, these are to be torn up, and if need be, by
separate discussions; for I have leisure, such as it
is! for this work. But all griefs are of one kind,
though of many names. For envy belongs under
the head of grief; so does rivalry, detraction, pity,
distress, mourning, sorrow, hardship, anxiety, pain,
uneasiness, affliction, despair. All these the Stoics
define, and these terms which I have repeated be-
long to specific conditions of mind. They do not
signify, as might seem, the same things, but have
their points of difference, of which I shall perhaps
treat elsewhere. These are those fibres of roots
which, as I said in the beginning, are to be traced
out, and to be all torn up, so that not one shall

1 Latin, cwicuimodi. I think that Cicero in this word refers
to the reason why he has leisure, which he does not want to have,
namely, the enforced suspension of his work in the courts and sen-
ate. ‘ Leisure such as it is,” i. e. which I would rather not have.

13

194 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

remain. It is a great and difficult work. Who
denies that it is so? But what is there pre-emi-
nently good that demands not arduous effort ?. Yet
Philosophy professes that she will accomplish it,
if we only accept her curative treatment. But
enough of this. Other subjects shall be ready for
discussion with you, both here and elsewhere.

i a

BOOK IV.
ON THE PASSIONS.

1. Srnce, Brutus, it is my frequent habit in my
writings to express my admiration of the genius
and the virtues of our fellow-countrymen, I feel
that sentiment especially with regard to the studies
which at a comparatively recent period they have
imported from Greece into Rome. While from the
origin of the city,— by royal ordinances, and in
part, also, by laws, — auspices, ceremonies, popular
assemblies, appeals to the people, the senate, the
enrolment of cavalry and foot-soldiers, the entire
military system, were established with divine aid,
_ an admirable ‘progress, an incredibly rapid advance
was made toward every kind of excellence as soon
as the State was freed from the sway of the kings.
This, ‘however, is not the place to speak of the cus-
toms and institutions of our ancestors, or of the
discipline and government of the State. Elsewhere
I have treated of these things with sufficient detail,’
especially in the six books that I have written on
the Republic. But here, in thinking of the several
departments of liberal culture, many reasons occur
to me for: believing that, though in part brought

196 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

from abroad, they were not wholly thus derived,
but were in part preserved and cherished on our
own soil; for our ancestors had almost under their
eyes Pythagoras, a man of pre-eminent wisdom and
nobleness of character, who was in Italy at the
time when Lucius Brutus, the renowned founder -
of your distinguished family,) gave freedom to his
country. Now as the philosophy of Pythagoras
flowed far and wide, I cannot doubt that its cur-
rent reached our city; and while this is probable
as a conjecture, it is also indicated by certain ves-
tiges. For who can think that when that part of
Italy called Magna Graecia flourished with strong
and great cities, and in these the name, first of
Pythagoras, afterward of the Pythagoreans, was so
highly honored, the ears of our people were closed
to their surpassingly learned instruction? Indeed,
I think that it was on account of admiration for
the Pythagoreans that King Numa was regarded by
posterity as a Pythagorean; for while they knew
the system and principles of Pythagoras, and had
heard from their ancestors of the equity and wis-
dom of that king, in their ignorance of ages and
dates belonging to so early a time, they took it for

1 The family was plebeian, and we have no authentic record
of it earlier than the (probably semi-mythical) story of the part
performed by Lucius Junius Brutus in the expulsion of Tarquin.
Some of the ancients denied that he was the founder of the fam-
ily, maintaining that his only two sons died childless, being exe-
cuted by their father’s order. A third son seems to have been
invented to supply the missing link in the chain of heredity.

On the Passions. 197

granted that a man of such transcendent wisdom
was a disciple of Pythagoras.

2. Thus far for conjecture. As for vestiges of the
Pythagoreans, though many may be collected, I yet
will name but few, since this is not the work that
I have now in hand. While it is said that the
Pythagoreans were accustomed both to deliver cer-
tain precepts somewhat obscurely in verse, and to
bring their minds from intense thought to quietness
by song and stringed instruments, Cato, the highest
of all authorities, in his Origines says *hat it was
customary with our ancestors at their feasts for the
guests to sing by turns, to the accompaniment of
the flute, the merits and virtues of illustrious men,
whence it appears that poems and songs were then
written to be sung. Indeed, the Twelve Tables
show that it was customary to write songs; for it
was legally forbidden to write songs to another per-
son’s injury.! Moreover, it is a proof that those
times were not without culture, that stringed in-
struments were played at the shrines of the gods
and at the civic feasts, — a custom characteristic of
the practice of the Pythagoreans. It seems to me,
too, that the poem of Appius Coecus,? which Panae-
tius praises highly in a letter of his to Quintus

1 That this was a capital offence appears from a passage of a
lost work of Cicero quoted by Saint Augustine.

2 He is the earliest Roman author whose name has come down
to us. Besides this poem he wrote a legal treatise of high
authority.

198 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

Tubero; is Pythagorean in its tone. There are many
things in our customs from this same source, which
I pass over, lest we may seem to have learned from
abroad what we are supposed to have originated
ourselves. But, to return to our purpose, in how
short a time, how many and how great poets, and
what eminent orators, have risen among us! so that
it is perfectly evident that everything is within
the reach of our people as soon as they begin to
desire it.

3. But of other pursuits I will speak elsewhere,
if need be, as I have often done. The study of
philosophy is indeed ancient among our people;
yet: before the time of Laelius and Scipio I find
none of its students whom I can specially name.
While they were young men, I see that Diogenes
the Stoic and Carneades of the Academy were sent
as ambassadors from Athens to the Roman senate.
As they had not the slightest. connection with pub-
lic affairs at Athens, one of them being from Cy-
rene, the other from Babylon, they certainly would
not have been called out-of their schools, or chosen
to this office, unless learned pursuits had at. that
time been in favor with certain of the principal
men in Rome, who, while they wrote on other

1 “In Rome” has nothing to correspond to it in the original,
and grammatically ‘‘the principal men” in Athens might seem
referred to, while the latter part of the sentence leaves no doubt
that Cicero is speaking of the great men of Rome who lived phi-
losophy without writing it.

On the Passions. 199

subjects — some, on civil law; some, their own
speeches; some, the memorials of earlier days—
at the same time cultivated the greatest of all arts,
the method of living well, in practice more than in
written words. Thus of that true and beautiful
philosophy, which, derived from Socrates, still re-
mains with the Peripatetics, and with the Stoics
too, who in their controversies with the disciples
of the Academy say substantially the same things
in a different way, there are hardly any, certainly
very few, remains of Latin authorship, and _ this,
either because the subjects were too large and the
men too busy, or else because those who might
have written thought that these things could have
no interest for persons not versed in them. Mean-
while, in their silence Caius Amafinius appeared as
a writer, and by his books, when published, the
people at large were excited; and many attached
themselves to his school, either because its doctrine
was easily understood, or because it invited them
by the ensnaring blandishments of pleasure, or be-
cause they laid hold of what was placed before
them for the sole reason that there was nothing
better. After Amafinius many zealous members of
the same school, and copious writers, were spread
through the whole of Italy, and the greatest proof
of the lack of subtilty in their writings is that they
are so easily understood and that they receive the
approval of the uneducated. This they regard as
constituting the strength of their school.

200 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

4. Let every man defend his own belief; for
opinions are free. JI shall adhere to my usual
method, and, bound by no necessity of conforming
to the dogmas of any one school, I shall always
inquire on every subject what is the most probable
opinion. As often elsewhere, I have carefully taken
this course of late in my Tusculan villa. The dis-
cussions of three days having been given you in
detail, that of the fourth is contained in this book.
When we had come down into the lower apart-
ment,! as we had done the preceding day, the dis-
cussion took place as follows.

M. Will some one please to name a subject for
discussion ?

A. It does not seem to me that the wise man is
free from every disturbance of mind.

M. It appeared from yesterday’s discussion that
he is free from grief, unless perchance you assented
to me rather than occupy more time.

A. Not by any means; for I most heartily ap-
prove of all that you said.

M. You do not think, then, that a wise man is
liable to grief.

A. Certainly not.

M. But if grief cannot disturb a wise man’s mind,

1 Latin, in inferiorem ambulationem, ‘the lower walking-
place,” i. e. the academia. Cicero represents himself as walk-
ing during these discussions, and walking was a common habit
with philosophers in their familiar lectures, from Aristotle — father
of the Peripatetics — downward.

On the Passions. 201

no other emotion can. What? Can fear disturb
him? Fear has for its objects those things not
present, the presence of which occasions grief. If
then grief is removed, fear also is removed. There
remain two perturbations, —excessive joy and inor-
dinate desire. If these do not affect the wise man,
the wise man’s mind will be always tranquil.

A. So I understand, without doubt.

M. Which will you prefer? Shall I make sail
at once, or shall I row a little while, as if we were
getting clear of the harbor ?

A, What do you mean? I do not understand
you.

5..M. This is my meaning. Chrysippus and the
Stoics, when they treat of disturbances of mind, are,
in great part, occupied in dividing and defining
them. They have very little to say about the
means of curing minds and preventing their dis-
turbance. The Peripatetics, on the other hand,
offer much toward the appeasing of such disturb-
ances, but omit the thorny work of division and
definition. My question then was whether I should
spread the sail of my discourse at once, or should
give it a start with the oars of logic.

A. The latter, by all means; for it is the whole
that I want, and the discussion is the more perfect
if both ways be pursued.

M. This is indeed the more proper method, and
you will afterward make suitable inquiries, if any-
thing that I say shall not have been perfectly clear.

202 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

A. I will certainly do so. Yet those very mat-
ters that are obscure you will expound, as’ you
always do, more clearly than they are stated by the
Greeks.

M. I will try, at any rate. But there is need of
the closest attention, lest, if one point escape ‘you,
the whole may glide away from your mind. Pre-
ferring to call what the Greeks term wd6n 1 pertur-
bations rather than diseases, in explaining them I
shall follow the very old description of them which
originated with Pythagoras and was adopted by
Plato. They divide the soul into two parts, — one
possessed of reason, the other destitute of it. In
that possessed of reason they place tranquillity, that
is, a placid and quiet firmness; in the other, the
turbid movements of both anger and desire,-con-
trary and hostile to reason. Be this then the
fountain-head? of our discussion. . Yet in describ-
ing these perturbations let us employ the defini-
tions and divisions of the Stoics, who seem to
me in this part of the subject to show very great
acuteness.

6. Zeno* then defines a perturbation, wdOos* as
he calls it, to be a commotion of mind contrary to
reason. Some more briefly say that a perturbation
is a too vehement desire, and by its being too vehe-
ment they mean its departing too far from the even

1 “ Affections.” See iii. § 4, note. 2 Latin, fons.
8 The Stoic, not the Epicurean, of that name.
€ « Affection.”

——eE ee eel

On the Passions. 203

temperament of nature. But they maintain that
the division of mental disturbances starts from two
imagined goods and two imagined evils, — from the
goods, desire and gladness, gladness in goods pres-
ent, desire of those to come; from the evils they
derive fear and grief, fear as to things future, grief
for things present, —the same things that are feared
in the future, when present, occasioning grief. Glad-
ness and desire have their scope in an opinion of
the goodness of their objects. While desire, ex-
cited and inflamed, is urged on to what seems good,
gladness becomes excessive and exultant on obtain-
ing what has already been desired. By nature all
pursue those things that seem good, and shun the
contrary. Therefore as soon as the appearance of
anything that seems good is presented, Nature her-
self urges one toward the attainment of it. When
this takes place consistently and prudently, the
Stoics term such a desire BovAnow—we call it
“volition.” They think that this exists in the wise
man alone, and they define volition as “reasonable
desire.” But will, which, with reason opposed to it,
is excited too vehemently, is lust or unbridled de-
sire, which is found in all who are not wise* In
like manner, when we are in possession of some
good, we are moved in one of two ways. When

1 “Will,” or ‘‘ volition.” 2 Voluntas.

3 Latin, omnibus stultis. Stultus is often used, especially by
Cicero, to denote, not actual folly, but the absence of wisdom, and
is sometimes employed to denote all who are not philosophers,

204 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

the mind is affected calmly and consistently, we
call that “joy;” but when the mind exults inanely
and immoderately, that may be called “ extravagant
or excessive gladness.” Moreover, since as we natu-
rally crave good things, so we turn away. from evil
things, this turning away, if it be done with rea-
son, may be called “caution,” which is understood
to exist in the wise man only; but when it is
without reason and with grovelling and unmanly
dejection, it may be termed “fear.” Fear then is
“caution contrary to reason.” In the next place, the
wise man is unaffected by present evil; while fool-
ish grief is that with which those not under the
control of reason are affected, and by which the
mind is cast down and shrunken. This then is
the first definition, that grief is a“ shrinking of the
mind opposed to reason.” Thus we have four kinds
of perturbation, and three calm and self-consistent
states, there being no such state that is the express
opposite of grief.

7. But the Stoics regard all disturbances of mind
as created by judgment and opinion. Therefore
they define them with the greater precision, that it
may be understood not only how vicious they are,
but how entirely they are within our own power.
Grief then is a recent opinion of the existence of a
present evil, because of which it seems right that
the soul should be cast down and should shrink
within itself; joy, a recent opinion of the existence
of a present good, by reason of which it seems right

On the Passions. ; 205

to be transported beyond the wonted bounds; fear,
an opinion as to an impending evil which seems
beyond endurance; desire! an opinion with regard
to some good to come, which would be of service
were it now present and at hand. But they say
that these perturbations contain not only the opin-
ions and judgments of which I have spoken, but
also the effects which result from their existence in
the mind, — grief occasioning, as it were, a gnaw-
ing of pain; fear, a sort of retreat and flight of
the soul; joy, an overflowing hilarity; desire, an
unbridled appetency. Meanwhile, the forming of
opinions, which entered into the definitions given
above, they regard as weak assent. Each pertur-
bation contains several divisions which properly
belong to the same class. Thus under the head of
grief are enviousness? (I employ the less common
word, that I may not be misunderstood ;* for envy
is used in speaking not only of him who envies, but
also of him who is envied), emulation, jealousy,‘ pity,

1 Latin, libido. We have no word which corresponds precisely
to it. ‘*Lust” has too narrow a meaning; ‘‘ desire,” too broad,
I have used in translating it the latter term, generally ; the for-
mer, when it was evidently the author's specific meaning ; and
sometimes, ‘‘inordinate desire,’ when the sense demanded that
qualification.

2 See iii. § 9, note.

3 Latin, docendi causa, which I suppose denotes the accuracy
which Cicero sought in a didactic treatise.

4 Latin, obtrectatio, which commonly means ‘‘ detraction,” but
not infrequently denotes ‘‘begrudging,” or ‘‘jealousy” in the
broader sense in which it refers to the relations, not between hus-

206 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

distress, mourning, sorrow, hardship, pain, lamenta-
tion, anxiety, trouble, affliction, despair, and other
emotions of the same sort, if others there be. Under
fear are included sloth, bashfulness, terror, timidity,
consternation, sinking of heart, confusion of mind,
dread; under pleasure, the malevolence that rejoices
in another's harm, delight, boastfulness, and like
affections; under desire, anger, irritability, hatred,
enmity, discord, want, longing, and other similar
states of mind.

8. These terms they define as follows. They
say that enviousness is grief for the prosperity of
another, when it does no injury to the envious per-
son. If one is pained by the prosperity of him by
whose success he himself is injured, as in the case
of Agamemnon in relation to Hector, he is not
properly said to be “envious;” but he whom anoth-
er’s well-being cannot in anywise injure, who yet is
sorry for it, is certainly chargeable with envy. Em-
ulation is used in two senses, and denotes both a
merit and a fault; for the imitation of virtue is
called “emulation” (with this we have no concern,
it being praiseworthy), and the name is also given
to the grief felt by one who fails to obtain? what

band and wife, but between man and man. The definition in the
next section shows that Cicero here uses the word in this latter
sense. ;

1 Latin, careat, which I render “‘ fails to obtain,” because oth-
erwise there is no distinction between emulation and jealousy.
Jealousy begrudges another what the jealous man would gladly
have, but has not endeavored to obtain.

On the Passions. 207

he had desired and another possesses. Jealousy
(by which I mean {nAoturiav)1 is also grief which
one feels at another's possessing what he would
have desired for himself. Pity is grief for another
who:is suffering undeservedly ; for no one is moved
to pity by the punishment of a parricide or a trai-
tor. Distress is pressing grief. » Mourning is grief
for the bitter death of one who has been dear.
Sorrow is grief with tears. Hardship is grief with
toil. Pain is grief with torment. Lamentation is
grief with wailing. Anxiety is grief with deep
thought. Trouble is continuous grief. Affliction
is grief with bodily vexation. Despair is grief
without any hope of better things. The emotions
under the head of fear they define as follows. Sloth
is the fear of labor in the future. Bashfulness.?
... Terror is a fear that convulses the body; so
that while blushing attends bashfulness, paleness
and trembling and chattering of teeth are produced
by terror. Timidity is the fear of evil close at hand.
Consternation is a fear that deranges the mind, as
in that verse of Ennius, —

‘*Then consternation drives all wisdom from my mind.”

Sinking of heart is a fear consequent and attend-
ant upon consternation. Confusion of mind is a
fear that shakes out thought. Dread is continuous
fear.

1 Best defined ‘‘ jealousy.”

2 There are many and widely varying readings of this passage,
My belief is that the definition that was here given of pudor, or
“‘bashfulness,” is irrecoverably lost.

208 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

9. The divisions of pleasure they define as fol-
lows. Malevolence is pleasure in another's misfor-
tune from which one derives no benefit. Delight
is pleasure that soothes the mind by sweet sounds,
and by similar sensations through the organs of
sight, touch, smell and taste, all which are of one
kind, and may be described as pleasures liqui-
fied to besprinkle the soul. Boastfulness is de-
monstrative pleasure, arrogantly forthputting. The
following are the definitions of the states of mind
under the head of desire. Anger is the desire to
punish one who, we think, has wrongfully done us
harm. Irritability is anger nascent and just begin-
ning to be, — called in Greek O¥pywous.1 Hatred is
an anger that has become chronic. Enmity is anger
on the watch for the opportunity of revenge. Dis-
cord is a more bitter anger conceived of hatred in
the inmost heart.2 Want is a desire that cannot
be satisfied. Longing is a desire to see some one
who is not yet at hand. They also define longing
as a desire excited by the report of certain things
which the logicians call xarnyopjyata’ as pos-

1 This word is not found in any extant Greek writer ; but it
may have been used by Chrysippus, from whom Cicero probably
drew most or all of these definitions. It is a word that ought to
be, and probably was. It is legitimately formed from @uyés, and
corresponds in formation, as in meaning, to the Latin animositas,
whence the English ‘‘ animosity.”

2 Latin, intimo odio et corde, literally, “of inmost hatred and
the heart ;” the point of the definition being the relation between
discordia and cor.

8 “Predicates,” i. e. what is affirmed concerning persons or
things.

On the Passions. 209

sessed by some person or persons, as that they have
riches, or are receiving honors; while want is the
desire for the things themselves, as for honors or
for money. But they say that intemperance?! is
the cause of every disturbance of soul; and this is
a falling away from a sound mind and right reason,
so averse from the rule of reason that the appetites
of the mind can be in no measure governed or
held in check. As therefore temperance allays
the appetites, makes them obey right reason, and
maintains the deliberate decisions of the mind,
so intemperance, in hostility to it, inflames, dis-
turbs, excites the entire mind. Thus griefs and
fears and all other perturbations are born of in-
temperance.

10, As when the blood is poisoned, or there is
an excess of phlegm or of bile, diseases and sick-
nesses are produced in the body, so the confusion of
perverse opinions and their mutual repugnancy de-
_ prive the soul of health, and trouble it with diseases.
From these inward perturbations there are pro-
duced, first, diseases which the Stoics call voonpata,?
and also dispositions opposed to those diseases, in-
volving a faulty disgust and disdain for certain
things, —then, sicknesses which they call aphworn-

1 Of course in its broad sense. The Latin temperantia denotes
dispositions and conduct appropriate to the time or occasion ; i.e.
neither’ too much, nor too little, — ‘‘ moderation.” Intemperan-
tia, which. I have rendered ‘‘intemperance,” includes immoder-
ateness of every description.

2 A word used to denote diseases both of body and of mind.
14

210 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

para, and also opposed to them disgusts of a con-
trary kind. Here the Stoics, and especially Chry-
sippus, spend too much labor in comparing diseases
of the mind with those of the body. Omitting this
line of thought as by no means necessary, let us treat
only of those things in which the subject in hand is
comprised. Let it then be understood that the per-
turbation of mind, when inconsistent and confused
opinions are tossed to and fro, implies perpetual
unrest; and when this heat and excitement of mind
have become chronic, and seated, as it were, in the
veins and marrow, then commence disease and sick-
ness, and the disgusts which are contrary to the
diseases and sicknesses.

11. The disease and sickness of which I speak,
though they may be discriminated in thought, yet in
fact are closely united, and they proceed from desire
and joy. Thus when money is desired, and reason
is not immediately applied, as a sort of Socratic
remedy which would cure that desire, the evil flows
into the veins and inheres in the bowels, and be-
comes a disease and a sickness which, when chronic,
cannot be extirpated, and the name of that disease
is “avarice.” The case is the same with other
diseases, as the desire of fame, or the passion for
women, if I may so call what in Greek is termed
diroyvdvera;? and other diseases and sicknesses have

1 A word denoting, not acute disease, but the kind of feeble-
ness and bodily derangement that is likely to become chronic.
2 “Love for women.”

ee =

ws

On the Passions. 211

a like origin. The dispositions contrary to these
are thought to originate from fear, as the hatred of
women, like that in the Micoyivy} of Attilius,
or the hatred of the whole human race, such as
is reported of Timon, who is called puodvOpw70s?
or inhospitality. All these sicknesses of the mind
spring from a certain fear of the objects shunned
and hated. The Stoics define sickness of the mind
to be an intensely strong opinion, inherent and
deeply seated, concerning some object which ought
not to be sought, that it deserves to be earnestly
sought. What springs from disgust they define as
an intensely strong opinion, inherent and deeply
seated, concerning some object which ought not to
be shunned, that it ought to be shunned; and this
Opinion is an assurance on the part of him who
holds it that he knows what he does not know. Un-
der the head of “sickness” belong such conditions
or habits as avarice, ambition, licentiousness, obsti-
nacy, gluttony, drunkenness, luxuriousness, and the
like. Now avarice is an intensely strong opinion,
inherent and deeply seated, about money, that it
ought to be earnestly sought; and the definition of
the other affections of the same class is similar.
The definitions of disgusts may be illustrated in the

1 The woman-hater. The title of a comedy of Attilius, one of
the earliest of Roman comic poets.

2 The ‘‘misanthrope,” or ‘‘man-hater.” The details of Timon’s
life have come to us mainly through Aristophanes and other comic

poets, so that little is definitely known of him, except that he
was really a misanthrope, or posed as one.

212 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

case of inhospitality, which is an intensely strong
opinion, inherent and deeply seated, that a guest is
to be sedulously avoided. In like manner we may
define the hatred of women, as in the case of Hip-
polytus,! and: the hatred of the whole human race
like that felt by Timon.

12. To resort to the analogy of bodily health,
using occasionally comparisons derived from it, but
more sparingly than is the habit of the Stoics, —
as different persons are specially inclined. toward
different diseases, and so we call some “ catarrhal,”
some “dysenteric,” not because they are so now, but
because they often are, —so there are some inclined
to fear, others to other perturbations. Thus in
some there is frequent anxiety, whence they are
called “ anxious,” and in others there is an irascibil-
ity which differs from anger; for it is one thing to
be irascible, another to be angry, — even as anxiety
differs from an anxious feeling; for all who some-
times feel anxious are not anxious, nor do those
who are anxious always feel anxious, There is a
like difference between a case of intoxication and
the habit of intoxication, and it is one thing to be
a lover, and another to be in the habit of making
love. This proclivity of different persons to differ-
ent diseases has a wide application. It belongs to

1 Hippolytus, in the mythical history of the family of Theseus,
is represented only as having repelled the unlawful love of his
stepmother ; but Euripides, in the tragedy of Hippolytus, repre-
sents him as, in the fullest sense of the term, a woman-hater.

On the Passions. 213

all disturbances of mind. It appears in the case
of many vices, but without a distinctive name.
Thus the envious, and the malevolent, and the ma-
lignant, and the timid, and the pitiful are so called,
because they are inclined to these disturbances of
mind, not because they are always affected by them.
This proclivity of each to his own kind of mental
disease may from the analogy of the body be termed
“sickness,” understanding by it a proclivity to be-
ing sick!’ But since different persons have special
aptitudes for different forms of goodness, this in-
clination with reference to good things is termed
“facility ;” with reference to bad things “ procliv-
ity ;” while as to things neither good nor bad it has
the former name.

13. As in the body there is disease, there is sick-
ness, there is imperfection,? so is it in the mind.

1 This section is rendered into English with difficulty, because
its meaning depends in great part on the different shades of sig-
nification belonging to words from the same root. In several
instances, we lack the means of showing at the same time the
resemblance and the difference between the two words ; in others
we should have to employ words not in common use, as ‘‘ire’’ and
“irate.” The following are.the pairs of words, which I have in
some cases been able to represent less fully than I could have
wished, —anxietas, anxius; tracundia, ira ; ebrietas, ebriositas ;
amator, amans ; aegrotatio, ad aegrotandum proclivitas.

_2 Latin, vitiwm, -I have in this section rendered this word,
and vitiositas also, ‘‘imperfection ;” as not only would ‘‘ vice”
and ‘“‘ viciousness” be inapplicable to the body, but ‘‘ imperfec-
tion” would better than ‘‘ vice” express Cicero’s meaning as to
the mind.

214 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

The disordered condition of the whole body is called
“disease ;” when disease is connected with debility,
it is “sickness;” while imperfection exists where the
parts of the body do not correspond to one another,
whence results the unhealthy condition of single
members, distortion, deformity. Those two, then,
disease and sickness, are produced by the concus-
sion and disturbance of the entire health of the
body, while an imperfection shows itself when the
health is sound. But as to the mind it is only in
thought that we can discriminate between disease
and sickness, while an imperfection is a habit or
state out of keeping with the life as a whole, and
not even in harmony with itself. Thus it is that
in the former case disease or sickness may be pro-
duced by corrupt opinions. On the other hand,
imperfection may result from a lack of consistency
and harmony in the mind itself; for it is not true
that in the mind, as in the body, every imperfec-
tion betokens a want of symmetry, and in the case
of those almost wise, it is a state that lacks self-
consistency so long as unwisdom lasts,! while there
may not be distortion or utter unhealthiness. But
diseases and sicknesses are parts of imperfection,
while it is questionable whether perturbations of
mind are so; for imperfections are continuous states,
while perturbations are fluctuating, and cannot there-

1 According to the Stoics, the truly wise man is “‘ perfect ;” he
who falls never so little short of wisdom, though without moral
disease or sickness, is ‘‘ imperfect.”

Eo —_

On the Passions. 215

fore be parts of continuous states! Moreover, as
in things evil, so in things good, the analogy of the
body applies very closely to the nature of the mind;
for as in the body the distinguishing attributes are
beauty, strength, health, firmness, quickness, so are
they in the mind. Soundness is the condition of
the body in which these elements of its well-being
are united. So is soundness affirmed of the mind
when its decisions and opinions agree. This state
is that virtue of the mind, which some call “tem-
perance,” while others regard it as obeying the rules
of temperance, and making temperance its aim, yet
without any specific character of its own? But
whether it be this or that, it exists only in the wise
man. Yet there is a certain kind of mental sound-
ness which may fall to the lot even of the unwise,
when the perturbation of mind is removed by cura-
tive treatment.? Still further, as there is in the
body a certain fit shape of the members with a

1 The sense of this sentence is better expressed by a paraphrase
than by a translation. ‘‘ Diseases and sicknesses are indeed pro-
duced by perturbations ; but these perturbations may cease, and
then the disease or sickness that they have produced may settle
down in some permanent imperfection of mind or character ;
while so long as the perturbations last, they are symptoms, not of
imperfection, but of still active disease or sickness.”

2 The more rigid Stoics denied the names — of which temper-
ance, in its broadest sense, was one—that denote perfect good-
ness to any human being, except to the ideal perfectly wise man.

8 This means that there may be all the discernible tokens of
moral excellence in those who, because lacking perfect wisdom,
cannot be perfectly good.

216 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

sweetness of complexion, which is termed “ beauty,”
so in the mind the same name is given to an equa-
bility and consistency of opinions, with a certain
firmness and steadfastness, engaged in the pursuit
of virtue, or containing all that gives strength to
virtue.1 We also give names derived from the
body to the active powers of the mind that resem-
ble the powers, nerves and efficiency of the body.
The speed of the body is called “ celerity,” and this
also is regarded as one of the merits of genius, on
account of the mind’s ability to run through many
things in a short time.

14. There is this difference between minds and
bodies, that healthy minds cannot be attacked by
disease, healthy bodies can be; but while diseases
of the body may take place without blame, it is
not so with those of the mind, in which diseases
and disturbances occur only from the neglect of
reason. They therefore exist in men alone; for
though beasts do some things that might be taken
for disease, they are not liable to disturbances of
mind. There is, too, this difference between those
of quick and those of dull apprehension, that, as
Corinthian brass is slow to rust, so men of active
.minds are slower in falling into disease, and are
restored more rapidly than those of dull intellect.
Nor are those of active mind liable to every sort of
disease and perturbation, certainly not to what is

1 Here again the reference is to the seemingly excellent men
who yet fall short of perfect wisdom.

On the Passions. 217

wild and savage; but some of their morbid affec-
tions appear at first sight humane, as pity, grief,
fear. Still further, it is thought that sicknesses
and diseases of the mind are eradicated less easily
than are those extreme imperfections that are the
opposites of the virtues. While diseases continue,
imperfections may be removed ; for diseases are not
cured as promptly as imperfections are taken away.
I have thus given you what the Stoics teach with
great precision as to disturbances of mind. They
call such discussion Aoyixd,! on account of its sub-
tilty. Now that my discourse has, as it were,
made its sea-way beyond the rude cliffs of the
shore, let us pursue our course through what re-
mains, if only what I have said shall have been as -
clear as so obscure a subject permits.

A, You have been sufficiently clear; but if there
are any matters that need to be inspected more
carefully, I will ask your aid at some other time.
I am now looking for the sails of which you spoke
at the outset, and for the voyage.

15. M. I have elsewhere spoken of virtue, and
shall still have to speak of it often ; for most ques-
tions appertaining to life and conduct are derived
from the fountain of virtue. It being a uniform
and fitting affection of the mind, making those who
possess it praiseworthy, and being itself, and for its
own sake, even without reference to its utility, de-
serving of praise, there proceed from it good voli-

1 “ Logic.”

218 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

tions, sentiments, deeds, and everything that belongs
to right reason, although virtue itself might be most
comprehensively defined as “right reason.” The op-
posite of virtue thus understood is viciousness (for
so rather than “malice” I prefer to call what the
Greeks term «xaxiay,) malice being the name of a
certain kind of vice, viciousness of all), which stim-
ulates the perturbations which, as I said a little
while ago, are turbid and excited movements of the
soul contrary to reason, and utterly inimical to
quietness of mind and life, inasmuch as they bring
in anxious and bitter griefs, afflict and enfeeble the
mind by fear, and inflame it with excessive desire,
which we sometimes call “ cupidity,” sometimes
“lust,’ and which, under whatever form, is a men-
tal infirmity, utterly inconsistent with temperance
and moderation. This craving, when it thinks it has
attained what it desired, is so elated by excessive
joy as to be incapable of consistent action, verifying
the saying of the character in the play,? that too
much pleasure of the mind is the greatest mistake
possible. The cure of these evils then is to be
found in virtue alone.

16. But what is there not only more miserable,
but more base and deformed, than a man broken
down, debilitated, prostrated by affliction? Next
to this form of wretchedness is he who fears some
approaching evil, and hangs in breathless suspense.

1 The best definition of this word is ‘‘ badness.”
2 A comedy of Trabea.

On the Passions. 219

To denote the magnitude of this evil the poets
imagine in the infernal regions a rock impending
over Tantalus,

*¢ For lawless deeds and over-boastful words.”

This is the common punishment of folly ; for some
such terror is perpetually impending over all whose
minds are averse from reason. Still further, as
these perturbations of the mind, to wit, grief and
fear, consume the strength, so do those of a more
cheerful kind, desire always on the eager quest, and
empty mirth, that is, exuberant joy, differ very
little from madness. Hence it is understood what
sort of a man he is, whom we at one time call “mod-
erate,” at another “temperate,” then again, “firm”
and “self-controlling,” while we are sometimes in-
clined to refer all these names to frugality, as chief
over them all; for unless the virtues are all com-
prehended in that one word, the saying, “ A frugal
man does all things aright,” would not have been
so commonly repeated as to become a proverb.
When the Stoics say the same about the wise man,
they seem to speak of him with the utmost admi-
ration and honor.

17. Whoever then has his mind kept in repose

1 Pre-eminently a Roman proverb ; for though in Cicero’s
time, notwithstanding abounding corruption and depravity, no-
bler ethical principles prevailed among the wiser and better men,
in Rome’s most virtuous days her virtues were of a utilitarian
type, and were prized because they represented the most thrifty
economy and the shrewdest practical wisdom.

220 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

by moderation and firmness, and is at peace with
himself so that he is neither wasted by troubles nor
broken down by fear, nor burns with longing in his
thirsty quest of some object of desire, nor flows
out in the demonstration of empty joy, is the wise
man whom we seek; he is the happy man, to whom
no human fortune can seem either insupportable so
as to cast him down, or too joyful so as to elate him
unduly. For what in human affairs can seem great
to him who takes cognizance of all eternity and
of the immensity of the whole universe ? Indeed,
what in human pursuits or in the narrow period of
life can seem great to the wise man, whose mind is
always so on the watch that nothing sudden, noth-
ing unthought of, nothing altogether new can hap-
pen to him? Such a man looks with so keen
insight in every direction that he always sees a
place of abode where he can live without trouble
or distress, and that whatever accident fortune may
bring, he can bear it fittingly'and calmly; and he
with whom this is the case will be free not from
grief alone, but also from all other perturbations.
But a mind free from these makes men perfectly
and absolutely happy; while a mind liable to ex-
citement and drawn away from sound and unerring
reason loses not only its self-consistency, but. even
its sanity. Therefore the reasoning and discourse
of the Peripatetics must be regarded as feeble and
nerveless, saying, as they do, that the mind must
of necessity be disturbed, and prescribing a certain

On the Passions. 221

limit beyond which one ought not to go. Do you
prescribe limit to a fault? Or is it no fault not to
obey reason? Or does reason fail to teach you that
what you either ardently desire or, when obtained,
rejoice over immoderately, is not a real good, nor is
that a real evil under which you lie crushed, or as
to which the fear that it may crush you deprives
you of your self-possession? And does reason say
that it is only the excess of sadness or of joy that is
an error? Now if this error is lessened by time for
the unwise, so that, while things remain unchanged,
they bear old troubles in one way, new troubles in
another, it may certainly not affect the wise at all.
What limit shall there be then? Let us seek the
limit of grief, which is the most burdensome of all
these morbid affections. Fannius writes that Pub-
lius Rupilius bore hardly the defeat of his brother
as candidate for the consulship. But he seems to
have passed the limit ; for this was the cause of his
death.1 He ought then to have borne it more mod-
erately. But what if while he was bearing it mod-
erately, the death of his children had imposed an
added burden? A new grief would have sprung up.
Let that be moderate, still a great addition would
have been made. What if there had then come se-
vere bodily pains, loss of property, blindness, exile ?
If for each of these evils there was added grief, the
sum might have been such as could not be borne.

1 The story is that, being slightly ill, he died instantly on
hearing of his brother’s defeat.

222 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

18. He who seeks a limit for a fault, is like one
who, throwing himself from Leucate, should think
that he can poise himself in mid-air when he
pleases. As he cannot do this, no more can the
mind when disturbed and excited restrain itself, and
stop where it wants to stop; and, in general, what-
ever things are harmful in their growth are faulty in
their birth. Now it is certain that grief and other
perturbations, when largely increased, are pestilen-
tial ; therefore when they first affect the mind, they
are at the outset in no small degree baleful. For
they urge themselves on when reason has once been
forsaken ; and weakness indulges itself, launches
out recklessly on the deep, nor finds any stopping
place. Therefore the approval of moderate pertur-
bations of mind is the same as approving of mod-
erate injustice, or moderate sloth, or moderate
intemperance. He who assigns a limit to faults
takes the part of those faults; and this, while hate-
ful in itself, is all the worse, because the faults for
which indulgence is craved are on slippery ground,
and when once started on the downward track, glide
on, and can in no way be held back.

19. What remains to be said? This indeed, —
that these same Peripatetics not only call those
perturbations which, as I think, ought to be extir-
pated, natural, but maintain that they were given by

1 Latin, vitiwm. “Vice” is here too strong a word, and

**fault” too weak ; yet I can find no English word that expresses
the mean between the two.

On the Passions. 223

Nature with a view to their usefulness. They reason
in this wise. They first say a great deal in praise
of anger. They call it the whetstone of courage,
and maintain that it will make the assaults on the
enemy and on the bad citizen more energetic ; that
there is no weight in the paltry reasoning, “It is
right that this battle should be fought; it is fitting
to contend for the laws, for liberty, for the father-
land ;” that these things have no force unless cour-
age be inflamed by anger. Nor do they confine
themselves to soldiers alone. They think that no
very rigid commands can be given without some
bitterness of anger. Finally, they do not approve
of an orator’s conducting a defence, much less of his
making an accusation, without the spur of anger,
which, if not real, should, as they think, be coun-
terfeited by word and gesture, so that the manner
of the orator may kindle the hearer’s anger. They
deny that there is any man who knows not how to be
angry, and what we term “lenity,”! they call by the
bad name of “sluggishness.”2 Nor do they content
themselves with praising this desire (for anger, as I
just now defined it, is the desire of revenge); but
they say that the entire class of desires or appeten-
cies was given by Nature with a view to the highest
usefulness ; for no one can do well what he does
not want to do. Themistocles walked the street®
by night because he could not put himself to sleep,
1 Lenitas. 2 Lentitudo,
8 Latin, ambulabat in publico,

224 Cicero’s Tusculan. Disputations.

and to those who asked why, he answered that he
was roused from sleep by the trophies of Miltiades.
Who has not heard of the vigils of Demosthenes,
who said that it pained him whenever in his work
before daylight any artisan got the start of him?
Finally, the leading men in philosophy itself could
never have made such progress in their studies
without burning desire. We are told that Pytha-
goras, Democritus, Plato traversed the ends of the
earth, thinking it incumbent on them to go wherever
there was anything to be learned. Can we imagine
that this could have been done without extremely
ardent desire ?

20. Even grief, which, as I said, should be shunned
as a foul and savage beast, they regard as appointed
by Nature not without great usefulness, that men in
their wrong-doing might feel pain in being visited
with chastisement, reproach, ignominy; for impu-
nity in evil seems granted to°those who bear igno-
miny and infamy without pain. To be thus stung
by their fellow-men is of more efficacy than con-
science. Hence that scene drawn from life in the
play of Afranius, when the profligate son exclaims,

** Ah wretched me, in grief and suffering sore !”
and the stern father says,
“« If he but grieve, I care not why he grieves.”

They say that the other forms of grief have their
utility, — that pity leads men to give needed help,
and to relieve the calamities of the unworthy; that

On the Passions. 225

even emulation and detraction are not useless, when
one -sees either that he has not attained what
another has, or that another has attained what he
himself has; and that were fear taken away, life
would be bereft of the circumspection which is
most manifest in those who fear the laws, the mag-
istrates, poverty, ignominy, death, pain. They yet,
in treating of grief and fear, acknowledge that they
ought to be cut close,! but say that they cannot be
and need not be wholly rooted out ;? and in general
they regard moderation in everything as preferable.
Do you think it necessary for me to say anything
about their treatment of these subjects ?

A. Ido. I therefore am awaiting what you have
to say upon them.

21. MW. I shall perhaps find something to the
point ; but I want first to remind you how modest
the Academics are; for what they say meets the
case in hand. The Stoics answer the Peripatetics.
So far as I care they may fight it out; for all that I
need to ask is, What seems most probable? Far-
ther than this the human mind cannot go, I agree
with Zeno in his definition of perturbation, which
he describes as a commotion of mind averse from
reason, contrary to nature, or, more comprehensively,
as a too vehement desire, that being understood as
too vehement which is remote from the even course

1 Latin, resecanda.
2 Latin, evelli, This and resecanda are terms borrowed from

horticulture.
: 15

226 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

of Nature. What can be said against these defini-
tions? Such utterances come from men who dis-
cuss the subject wisely and acutely. But “ardor of
souls,” “whetstones of the virtues,’ and the like,
proceed from rhetorical display. Now cannot a
brave man be brave unless he begins to be angry ?
This may indeed be said of gladiators. Yet in them
we sometimes see unruffled firmness. Théy con-
verse, walk together, make complaints and demands,
in such a way as to seem peaceably disposed rather
than angry. But among them there may indeed
sometimes be one of the disposition of Pacideianus?
as personated by Lucilius :—
* T’ll kill and conquer him as sure as fate.

I may indeed be wounded at the outset ;

But in his lungs and heart my sword shall rest.

I hate the man, I fight inflamed with anger,

And hardly hold myself from rushing on him

Till each is duly armed for the encounter.”

22. But without this gladiatorial anger we see
Homer’s Ajax moving on very cheerfully when he
is going to fight with Hector. When he took his
arms, his advance toward the place of conflict gave
joy to the allies, but struck the enemies with terror,
so that Hector himself, according to Homer, trem-
bled all over, and was sorry that he had given the
challenge.2 They calmly and quietly conversed be-

1 A celebrated gladiator in the time of the Gracchi.

2 This is an over-statement. The words in the J/iad denote
the quick throbbing of the heart, but not necessarily terror, still
less, terror verging upon cowardice.

On the Passions. 227

fore fighting, and in the fight itself they did nothing
angrily or furiously. Nor do I think that the Tor-
quatus! who first received this surname was angry
when he took the chain from the Gaul, or that
Marcellus was brave at Clastidium? because he was
angry. Of Africanus, better known to us as of more
recent fame, I can even swear that he was not in-
flamed with anger when in battle he protected Marcus
Allienus the Pelignian with his shield, and plunged
his sword into the enemy’s bosom.2 As to Lucius
Brutus I might perhaps hesitate to say whether, on
account of his unbounded hatred of the tyrant, he
did not rush somewhat impetuously upon Aruns ;#
for I see that they killed each other in close con-
flict, thrust for thrust. But why do you introduce
anger in this connection? Has not courage its
moving force, unless it begins to be mad? What?
Do you suppose that Hercules, whom the very cour-
age which you identify with anger raised to heaven,
was angry when he fought with the Erymanthian
boar or the Nemaean lion? Or was Theseus angry
when he took the Marathonian bull by the horns ?°

1 Titus Manlius accepted the challenge of a Gaul to single
combat, killed him, and took from his neck a chain or necklace
(torquis), whence the name Torquatus.

2 Where he slew Viridomarus, the king of the Gauls.

3 This transaction is nowhere else referred to in any book now
extant.

# The son of Tarquinius Superbus.

5 The story is that Theseus went to Marathon to put a stop
to the frightful ravages of a previously invincible bull, which

228 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

Take heed that courage have in your thought the
least possible connection with rage, inasmuch as
anger is of no weight; nor is that to be deemed
courage, which lacks reason.

23. Human fortunes are to be despised ; death is
to be looked upon as of no account; pain and labor
are to be regarded as endurable. When these prin-
ciples are established in opinion and feeling, then
there exists a truly robust and firm courage, unless
it be suspected that whatever is done ardently,
eagerly, spiritedly is done under the impulse of
anger. The chief priest Scipio, who reaffirmed the
maxim of the Stoics that the wise man is never a
private citizen, does not seem to me to have been
angry with Tiberius Gracchus, when he left the
consul faint-hearted, and though a private man, as
if he were the consul ordered those who desired the
safety of the State to follow him. I know not
what courageous service I myself may have ren-
dered in the commonwealth ; if any, it has certainly
not been in anger. Is there anything more like
insanity than anger, which Ennius rightly called
the beginning of insanity? What symptom of a
sound mind is there in the complexion, voice, eyes,
breath, lack of self-command in word and deed, of
him who is angry? What is more unseemly than
Homer’s Achilles and Agamemnon in their quarrel ?
Indeed, anger led Ajax on to madness and death.

he took by the horns, carried alive to Athens, and sacrificed to
Apollo.

On the Passions. 229

Courage then does not require the aid of anger; it
is of itself sufficiently endowed, prepared, armed.
If anger be requisite to courage, in like manner we
may say that drunkenness, nay, even insanity, helps
courage; for madmen and drunkards are wont to
do many things with excessive vehemence. Ajax,
always brave, is most brave when he is mad.
* His greatest feat was when the Greeks gave way,
And he, a madman, turned the tide of battle.” 1

24. May we say therefore that madness is ser-
viceable ? Consider the definitions of courage, and
you will understand that it has no need of passion.
Courage is defined to be an affection of the mind
which in whatever is to be endured obeys the
highest law ; or, the maintenance of a firm decision
in enduring and repelling those things that seem
formidable ; or, the science of bearing or altogether
ignoring formidable and adverse things, with the
maintenance of a firm decision with regard to them;
or, more briefly, in the words of Chrysippus; for
these definitions are all from Sphaerus,? whom the
Stoics regard as peculiarly skilled in definition, and
they are all nearly alike, expressing the common
sentiment with greater or less accuracy. But how
does Chrysippus define courage ? It is, he says, the
science of bearing things, or an affection of the mind

1 From an unknown poet.

2 A Stoic philosopher, eminent for his subtilty in distinctions
and definitions, the author of a large number of books or treatises,
of which the names alone have come down to us.

230 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

fearlessly obedient to the highest. law in suffering
and enduring. Although we may inveigh against
these men, as Carneades used to do, I apprehend
that they may be the only philosophers ;1 for which
of these definitions does not develop the obscure
and involved notion which we all have of courage ?
When this is developed, who is there that can de-
mand anything more for the warrior, or the com-
mander, or the orator, or can imagine that either
cannot do anything bravely unless he be enraged ?
What? Do not the Stoics, who say that all who are
unwise are insane, include the angry among the un-
wise ? Exclude perturbations of mind, most of all,
irascibility, and their language will seem absurd.
But what they say in their treatment of the subject
is this, —that the unwise are insane in the sense
in which every cesspool smells badly, — not all the
time, —stir it, and you have the smell. So the
irascible man is not always angry, — provoke him,
and you will see him in a rage. What? How
does this warlike irascibility show itself with wife
and children, when it has returned home? Is there
anything which a disturbed mind can do better
than a self-collected mind? Or can any one be
angry without disturbance of mind? Our people,
therefore, since all faults belong to the department

1 Quoad hoc. Cicero is evidently dissatisfied with all types
of ethical philosophy except that of the Stoics. But he by no
means intends to deny the name of philosopher to those of other
schools.

— ——

On the Passions. 231

of morals, because there was nothing more offen-
sive than irascibility, were right in reserving the
name of “morose”? for the irascible.

25. It is by no means becoming for an orator to
be angry ; it is not unbecoming for him to simulate
anger. Do I seem to you to be angry when in
pleading a cause I speak very earnestly and vehe-
mently 2 What? When I write out my orations,
after the affairs at issue are finished and past, do I
write in anger? Do you think that when Aesopus
on the stage exclaims, “Who saw this? bind
him,” he is angry, or that Attius was angry
when he wrote the play? These emotions are
acted well, and indeed better by an orator, if he
be indeed.an orator, than by any stage-player ; but
they are acted deliberately and with a quiet mind.
Then what wantonness it is to praise inordinate
desire! You cite for me Themistocles and Demos-
thenes; you add Pythagoras, Democritus, Plato.
What? Do you call their studies inordinate desire?
Studies of the best things, such as you bring for-
ward, ought to be calm and tranquil. Then again, to
what philosophers does it belong to commend grief,
the one thing of all most detestable? Afranius
indeed very fitly wrote, —

‘* If he but grieve, I care not why he grieves ;”

but this was said of an abandoned. and _ profligate
youth, while our inquiry is concerning a firm and

1 Mores. 2 Morosus. 8 In the Atreus of Attius.

232 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

wise man. Anger itself may be permitted to a centu-
rion, or a standard-bearer, or others whom I need not
mention, lest I tell the secrets of the rhetoricians ;!
for it is of service for one who has not reason at
command to avail himself of emotion. My inquiry,
however, as I often repeat, is about the wise man.
26. But it is said that emulation, detraction, pity
are of service. Yet why do you pity rather than
give help if you can? For we ought not ourselves
to incur grief on account of others, but, if we can,
to relieve others of grief. Then what use is there
in detraction, or in emulation of that vicious type
which resembles jealous rivalry, since it is the part
of such emulation for one to be vexed at another’s
good which he has not, — of detraction, to be vexed
at another’s good because it is his? How can it
be worthy of approval for you to grieve if you want
anything instead of trying to obtain it? And it is
the extreme of folly 2 to desire to be the sole posses-
sor of any good. But who can rightly praise the
moderate possession of evils? For can one in
whom there is lust or cupidity be otherwise than
lustful and avaricious ? Is not he in whom there is
anger irascible? Is not he in whom there is anx-
iety anxious? Is not he in whom there is fear
timid? Do we then think that the wise man is

1 Who teach the ways of exciting passion in classes of people
weak enough to be made angry by rhetorical art.

2 Latin, dementia, which, meaning ‘‘loss of mind,” may de-
note either madness or folly.

On the Passions. 233

lustful, and irascible, and anxious, and timid? The
excellence of the wise man admits of copious and
broad treatment ; but wishing to be as brief as pos-
sible, I will only say that wisdom is the science of
things divine and human, and the knowledge of the
cause of everything. Hence it is that the wise man
imitates things divine, and counts all things human
as inferior to virtue. Now do you profess to think
that this condition of mind is liable to perturbation,
as the sea is to gusts of wind? What is there that.
can disturb such gravity and firmness? Anything
unprovided for and sudden? What of this sort can
happen to one whom nothing that can happen to
man.can take by surprise? As to what is said
about the fitness of cutting off what is excessive
and leaving what is natural, what can be natural of
which there can be too much? For all these things
grow from roots of errors that must be torn up and
pulled out, not lopped and pruned.

27. But as I suspect that you are not inquiring
about the wise man so much as about yourself —
thinking that he is free from every perturbation,
and yourself desiring to be so— let us see what are
the remedies which philosophy applies to the dis-
eases of the soul. There certainly is some curative
treatment; for never was Nature so hostile and
inimical to the human race as to contrive so many
means of health for bodies, none for souls, for which
she has really done even better, inasmuch as such
helps as the body needs are furnished from without,

234 Cicerd’s Tusculan Disputations.

while those that the soul requires it contains. But
the greater and the more divine the excellence of
the soul, the more careful diligence does it need.
Therefore reason, well applied, discerns what is
best ;. carelessly employed, is involved in many
errors. All that I shall now say must then be spe-
cially directed to you; for while you feign? to be
inquiring about the wise man, you are really inquir-
ing about yourself. Now there are various cures for
the perturbations which I have explained ; for all
diseases are not relieved in the same way,— one
mode of treatment must be applied to grief, another
to pity or to envy. It is optional, too, in our treat-
ment of the four classes of perturbations, whether
what is to be said shall apply to perturbation in
general, which is a spurning of reason or an excess
of desire, or whether it shall apply to each severally,
as to fear, lust, and the others,—also whether the
aim shall be to show that the particular cause of
grief is one that ought not to be borne distressfully,
or entirely to remove grief for all causes whatsoever,
— for instance, in case one were bearing poverty in
a sorrowful spirit, whether it be desirable to prove
that poverty is not an evil, or that man ought not
for any reason to suffer grief. Undoubtedly this
last is the better mode; for should your reasoning
about poverty fail. to carry conviction, you must
permit the man to grieve, while when grief is taken

1-In proposing for discussion the proposition, ‘* The wise man
is not free from every disturbance of mind.”

On the Passions. 235

away by such appropriate arguments as we em-
ployed yesterday, the evil of poverty is also in —
some sort taken away.

28. But every perturbation of the kind under
discussion may be washed away! by this soothing
process for the mind, namely, by teaching that the
special object from which inordinate joy or desire
springs is not a good, nor that. which causes either
fear or grief an evil. . Nevertheless, the sure and
fitting cure is to teach that the. perturbations them-
selves are in their very essence vicious, and have
about them nothing that is natural or necessary, —
since we see grief itself allayed when we charge
persons in sorrow with the feebleness of an etfemi-
nate mind, and when we praise the solidity and
firmness of those who. bear the vicissitudes of hu-
man fortune unmoved, This, however, is wont to
be the case even with persons who regard these
things as evils, yet think that they ought to be
borne with equanimity. Thus one man regards
pleasure as a good, another, money; yet the former
can be called away from intemperance, the latter,
from avarice. But the other mode of reasoning
and discoursing, which takes.away at the same
time both the false opinion and the disease itself,
is indeed more serviceable, yet is rarely. made avail-
ing, and does not admit. of being applied to man-

1 This figure is undoubtedly derived from the use of external
lotions in bodily disease, which sometimes not only relieve, but even
eure, yet are regarded as less efficacious than internal remedies.

236 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

kind at large. There are also some diseases which
that mode of treatment cannot in any wise relieve.
Thus, if one is grieved by the consciousness that
there is in him no virtue, no soul, no sense of duty,
no honor, he may indeed be distressed by real evils ;
but some other curative treatment must be applied
to him, and such treatment as may have the sanc-
tion of all philosophers, however far apart they may
be in other matters. All must indeed agree that
commotions of mind opposed to right reason are
vicious, so that, even if those things which cause
fear or grief are evil, or those which excite inor-
dinate desire or joy, good, yet the commotion itself
is vicious; for we all desire that the man whom
we call magnanimous and brave should be firm,
calm, of massive character, superior to all human
vicissitudes. But one who either grieves, or fears,
or covets, or is elated by joy, cannot be of this char-
acter; for the morbid affections that I have named
belong to those who regard the events of human
life as of higher importance than their own souls
have.

29. Therefore, as I have already stated, all the
philosophers have one method of cure, so that noth-
ing need be said as to the quality of that which
disturbs the mind, but only as to the disturbance
itself. Thus as regards inordinate desire, if the
only thing in view be its removal, it is not to be
asked whether the object be good or not,— the
desire itself is to be taken away, so that whether

On the Passions. 237

the supreme good be the right, or pleasure, or the
two combined, or what are commonly called the
three kinds of good,! yet even if it be the desire for
virtue itself that is unduly strong, the same dissua-
sives are to be urged upon all. But human nature,
on close inspection, is found to contain every means
for calming the mind; and that it may be more
easily placed in clear view, the condition and law
of life must be explained. Therefore it was not
without reason that when Euripides brought out
the play of Orestes, Socrates called for the repetition
of the first three verses: — _
‘* No doom by tragic muse or wrath divine
Is told or felt, so full of bitter woe,
That human patience cannot bear the load.” 2

The enumeration of those who have borne the like
is of service in persuading men that what has be-
fallen them can be and ought to be borne. But the
mode of calming grief was expounded in our yester-
day’s discussion, as also in my book entitled Con-
solation, which I wrote in the midst of grief and
pain (for I was not then wise), and what Chrysippus
forbids, the employing of curative treatment for agi-
tations of the soul still recent,? I did, and applied

1 Virtue, bodily advantages, and external goods.

2 Cicero has slightly changed the sense of these verses, to serve
the purpose in hand. The following seems to me the meaning
of the original :—‘‘ There is no story of suffering, nor heaven-
inflicted calamity, beyond what human nature may be compelled
to bear.”

8 Latin, recentes quasi twmores animi, literally, ‘‘ fresh tumors

238 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

force to nature, that the greatness of the pain might
yield to the greatness of the cure.

30. Closely allied to grief, which has been suf-
ficiently discussed, is fear, on which a few things
need to be said. As grief appertains to present, so
does fear to future evil. Therefore some have said
that fear is a division under the head of grief, while
others have called it “trouble anticipated,”? because
it is, so to speak, the leader of trouble that is going to
follow. For all the reasons, then, for which things
present are endured, things future are held in con-
tempt. With regard to both, equal heed must be
given that we do nothing grovelling, mean, soft, ef-
feminate, broken-spirited and abject. But although
we must speak of the irresolution, feebleness, light-
headedness of fear, it yet is of great service to de-
spise the very things which are the objects of fear.
Therefore, whether it happened by chance or was of
design, it was very much to our purpose that on the
first and second day we discussed the things that
are most feared, — death and pain. If our conclu-
sions on these subjects are approved, we are freed in
great part from fear.

31. Thus far as to opinion about evils. Let us
now consider opinion about goods, that is, inordinate
[i. e. raw sores] of the mind, so to speak,” —a figure, by no means
inappropriate, and yet not easily transferred to another tongue.

1 Latin, praemolestiam, i. e. *‘ pre-trouble,” a word coined
by Cicero, used by no one else, untranslatable. Our colloquial

phrase, ‘‘ borrowing trouble,” perhaps makes the nearest approach
to it.

On the Passions, 239

gladness and desire. To me, indeed, it seems that
in everything appertaining to perturbations of mind
the entire case is contained in the one fact that all
these perturbations are under our own control, all of
our own choice, all voluntary. The error that is
their source must, then, be removed, the opinion
from which they spring must be extirpated ; and as
of supposed evils such as we encounter are thus to
be made more tolerable, so among supposed goods
such as are called great and gladsome are to be re-
ceived with a calmer mind: Yet as to both evils
and goods, if it is difficult to convince any one that
none of those things that disturb the mind ought to
be accounted as among either goods or evils, differ-
ent modes of treatment must be applied to different
mental disorders,—the malevolent must be cor-
rected in one way, the amatory in another, the anx-
ious, again, in another, the timid in yet another. It
were indeed easy, according to the most approved
mode of reasoning concerning good and evil,! to
show that an unwise man can have had no expe-
rience of happiness, inasmuch as he never possessed
any true good. But I am now using the language
of common life. Suppose then that those are really
goods which. are regarded as. such, honors, riches,
pleasures, and the like, yet exulting and extravagant
joy in their possession is shameful, just as while
laughter may be permitted, cachinnation may deserve
reproof. The same blame rests on exhilaration in
1 The Stoic philosophy.

240 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

gladness as on depression in pain; over-earnestness
in seeking objects of desire is on the same footing
with an excess of happiness in their enjoyment ;
and as those who are too much cast down by
trouble, so those who are too much elated by joy
are fitly regarded as light-minded. Still further, as
envy comes under the head of grief, so does taking
pleasure in another’s misfortunes under that of joy,
and both are usually chastised by the exposure of
their savageness and beastliness. Moreover, as it is
becoming to avoid rashness, unbecoming to fear, so is
it becoming to be happy, unbecoming to be immod-
erately glad ; for in order to be explict I distinguish
between the two! I have already said that depres-
sion of the mind can never be right, that elation may °
be ;? for the joy of Hector in the play of Naevius,

‘*T joy to hear my praise from one who merits praise,” ®

is of an entirely different type from that expressed
in these verses of Trabea, —

‘** The kind procuress, by my money won,
Will meet my will. My touch will move the doors,
And Chrysis, who does not expect my coming,
Will rush with joyful greeting as I enter,
And gladly welcome my desired embrace.” #

1 Between gaudiwm and laetitia, which in ordinary use seem
synonymous, while yet Zaetitia is used when a stronger word than
gaudium is needed.

2 Under special conditions, — not with regard to external goods,
but as to the only true good, — conscious virtue.

3 From a tragedy of Naevius entitled Hector Proficiscens.

* The only passage of any length that has been preserved from

On the Passions. 241

How splendid the personage in the play regards
this, he himself shall tell: —

** Fortune herself falls short of my good fortunes,”

32. One needs only careful consideration to per-
ceive in his inmost soul how shameful is joy of this
type; and as those are base who are transported
with gladness in the enjoyment of sensual pleasure,
so are those scandalously vile whose minds are in-
flamed with desire for such indulgence, Indeed, all
of what is commonly called “love” (nor, by Hercu-
les, can I find any other name for it) is so trivial
that I can see nothing to be compared with it. Yet

Caecilius! says of it : —
** A fool is he, or in affairs unversed,
Who deems not Love supreme and sovereign God,
Whose hand dispenses madness, wisdom, health,
Disease, success, reciprocated love,
His own caprice his all-sufficient law.”
O poetry, what a pre-eminent corrector of life, which
seeks to place Love, the creator of profligacy and
levity, in the council of the gods! I am speaking
of comedy, which, if we did not approve of these
vilenesses, would have no existence at all. But
what, even in tragedy, says that leader of the
Argonauts ?

‘* You saved my life for love, and not for honor.” 2

any play of Trabea. If this is a fair specimen, the loss is not to
be deplored.
1 See iii. § 23, note.
2 From the Medea Exul of Ennius,
16

242 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

What then ? What flames of wretchedness did the
love of Medea kindle! And she, in the words of
another poet, says that she had a husband,

** The gift of Love, far dearer than a father.” 1

33. But we may suffer some sportive freedom in
the poets, in whose fiction we see Jupiter himself
implicated in these scandalous affairs. Let us come
to philosophers, preceptors of virtue, who deny the
necessarily licentious character of love, and in this
are at variance with Epicurus, who, as I think, is
not far from the right. For what: is that love of
friendship of which they speak? Why is not a de-
formed young man or a beautiful old man the object
of love? The worst form of licentiousness, as I
think, sprang from the Greek gymnasium, where
every improper liberty is permitted. It was well
said by Ennius,

**In public nudeness license had its birth.”

To say nothing of the love of women, for which
Nature has granted a greater freedom, who can
doubt what the poets mean by the rape of Gany-
mede? Or who does not understand what the
Laius of Euripides says and desires? Or, finally,
what the most learned men and the greatest
poets publish about themselves in their songs and
poems? What does Alcaeus — distinguished for
courage in his own country — write about the
love of young men? Indeed, all Anacreon’s verse

1 Probably from the Medea of Pacuvius.

On the Passions. 243

is amatory. But most scandalous of all in this
regard, if judged by his writings, was Ibycus. of
Rhegium.!

34. Now we see that the loves of all these
writers are licentious. There have also appeared
some of us philosophers — chief among them my
favorite Plato, whom on this score Dicaearchus
rightly accuses — who have given their sanction
to love. The Stoics, indeed, both say that a wise
man may be a lover, and define love as the en-
deavor to form friendship from personal beauty. If
there is in reality any one devoid of care, of desire,
incapable even of a sigh, I have nothing to say of
him ; for he is entirely free from sensuality, and it is
of this that I am now speaking. If, however, there’
is any love, as there certainly is, which is quite or
almost insanity, such as is impersonated in the
Leucadia, —

‘* Tf there be one among the immortal gods,
Who makes indeed my happiness his care.” ®
But all the gods ought to have taken care that his
love should be gratified.

“€ Oh wretched me, while Heaven withholds its aid.”
Nothing more true ; and he is well answered : —

‘* Art thou demented in thy senseless wailing?”

1 Anacreon and Ibycus both lived for many years at Samos,
under the patronage and at the court of Polycrates.

2 A comedy of Turpilius,

3 The sentence is left unfinished.

244 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

Thus his friends look upon him as insane. But
what a tragedy is he making of it!
** Holy Apollo, help ! and, mighty Neptune,
On thee I call. Ye winds, I crave your aid.”
He thinks that the whole universe will turn to in
aid of his love. Venus alone he excepts, as indis-
posed to do him justice.

‘* For why, O Venus, should I call on thee ?”

He says that it is on account of her lustfulness
that she does not care for him, as if it were not in
very lustfulness that he is saying and doing such
abominable things.

35. In attempting to cure one thus affected it is
well to show him how trivial, how contemptible,
how utterly worthless is the indulgence that he
craves, how easily gratification may be sought from
other sources and in other ways, or the whole mat-
ter be dismissed from thought. Sometimes it is de-
sirable to lead one away to new pursuits, solicitudes,
cares, occupations. ‘Then too, the cure may often
be effected by a change of place, as in the case of
invalids who are not convalescent. Some also think
that an old love is to be driven out by a new love,
as a nail is displaced by another nail. But espe-
cially should one be warned of the intensity of the
madness produced by love; for of all perturbations
of mind there is certainly none more vehement, so
that, if you will not lay to its charge such crimes as
ravishing, seduction, adultery, and even incest, the

On the Passions. 245

vileness of all which may be put to its account, yet
omitting all these things, the very disturbance of
mind in love is in itself disgusting. To pass over
the symptoms indicative of madness, what fickleness
of character is implied in the very things that seem
harmless !1
‘** Wrongs and suspicions, enmity and truce,

War without cause, and peace succeeding war.

Of these caprices would you know the law,

The reason why? Then may you fix by rule

The madman’s fancies and his fits of rage.” ?
Whom ought not this inconstancy, this fickleness,
by its own unseemliness, to deter? For what I
have said with regard to every perturbation should
be clearly shown, namely, that there is no perturba-
tion which is not a matter of opinion, of one’s own
choice, voluntary. If love were natural, all would
love, and would love always, and would love the
same object,? nor would shame deter one, reflection
another, satiety another.

36. Anger, too, which, so long as it disturbs the
mind, leaves no doubt of its being madness, — by
whose impulse there arises between brothers* a
quarrel like this, —

‘* «Tn shamelessness what mortal is thine equal ?”
‘In malice whom can I compare with thee ?’” 5

1 Latin, mediocria, i. e. neither good nor evil.

2 From the Zunuchus of Terence, i. 1.

8 Latin, idem. I have translated it literally ; yet I think that
Cicero must have meant either ‘‘a similar object,” or ‘‘in the
same way.”

4 Agamemnon and Menelaus.

5 From the Jphigenia of Ennius. This sentence is left unfin-

246 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

You know what follows. The brothers in alternate
verses hurl at each other the severest contumely, so
as to make it plainly manifest that they are the sons
of Atreus,— the man who plans a novel punish-
ment for his brother, —
‘* Evil stupendous must I bring upon him,
That I may bruise and crush his bitter heart.” }
What then will this stupendous evil be? Let
Thyestes tell : —
‘* My impious brother caters for my table,
And for the viands serves my slaughtered sons.”

Their entrails he places before their father. To what
length will not anger, like madness, go? Therefore
we properly say that the angry have got beyond
their own control, beyond counsel, reason, intellect.
Those whom they endeavor to assail must be taken
out of their way till they collect themselves? (what
does “ collecting themselves” mean, unless it be get-
ting together again into their place the scattered parts
of the mind 2), and the angry men themselves must
be begged, besought, that, if they have any power of
revenge, they will postpone its exercise to another
time, till their anger cools. Now, cooling implies a
heat of mind without the consent of reason. Hence
the praise bestowed on that saying of Archytas
ished, — perhaps designedly ; in which case anger, with the rest of
the sentence so far as it goes, is announced as the subject of what
follows.

1 These and the following verses are from the Atreus of Attius.

2 Latin, se ipsi colligant.

3 Latin, defervescat.

On the Passions. 247

when he was angry with his steward, “How would
I have dealt with you, if I had not been angry !”
37. Where then are those who say that anger is
of use? Can insanity be of use? Or those who say
that anger is natural ? Can anything that has rea-
son for its antagonist be in accordance with nature?
How, if anger were natural, could one man be more
irascible than another? Or how could the desire
for revenge cease till it was gratified? Or how
could any one repent of what he had done in an-
ger? as we see in the case of king Alexander who,
after killing his friend Clitus, hardly refrained from
taking his own life, so strong was his feeling of re-’
morse. In view of these things who can doubt that
this movement of the mind in anger is wholly a
matter of opinion, and voluntary? And who can
doubt that such diseases of the mind as avarice and
ambition spring from the unduly high estimate of
that which occasions the mind’s disease ? Whence
it ought to be inferred that every perturbation of
mind also consists in opinion. Moreover, if con-
fidence, that is, firm assurance of mind, is the vir-
tual knowledge and settled opinion of one who does
not give his assent without reason, fear is lack of
confidence as to expected and impending evil; and
if hope is the expectation of good, fear must neces-
sarily be the expectation of evil. | Like fear, so are
the other perturbations involved in evil. As firm-
ness then belongs to knowledge, so does perturba-
tion belong to error. Those who are said to be

248 Cicere’s Tusculan Disputations.

irascible, or pitiful, or envious, or otherwise simi-
larly affected, by nature, have minds, so to speak,
constitutionally in bad health, yet are curable, as is
said to have been the case with Socrates. Zopyrus,
who professed to know a man’s character from his
appearance, when in a public assembly he had given
a long catalogue of the faults of Socrates, and was
derided by others who did not recognize those faults
in him, was relieved from blame by Socrates him-
self, who said that these faults were implanted in
him by nature, but that he had exterminated them
by reason. Therefore, as one may seem to be in
perfect health, yet somewhat inclined by nature to
a particular disease, so in different minds is there a
propensity to different faults. The faults of those
who are said to be faulty, not by nature, but of their
own depraved will, spring from false opinions as to
things good and evil, so that from this source also
different persons have a proclivity to different move-
ments and perturbations of mind. But as it is in
bodies, so is it in minds,—chronic disease of mind?
is dispelled with greater difficulty than fresh per-
turbations, just as a sudden tumor of the eyes is
cured sooner than an inflammation of long standing
can be removed.

38. Now that we have ascertained the cause of
perturbations of mind, which all spring from opin-
ion and will, this discussion need not be continued

1 Diseases that are in a certain sense innate, caused by a nat-
ural proclivity.

On the Passions. 249

longer. But when we know, as far as they can be
known by man, the supreme good and the corre-
sponding extreme of evil, we ought to be aware that
nothing greater or more useful can be desired from
philosophy than the truth as to these subjects which
we have discussed for four successive days ; for to
the contempt of death and the relief of pain so as
to make it endurable, we added the appeasing of
grief, than which man is liable to no greater evil.
Although every perturbation of mind is indeed
severe, and differs little from insanity, yet we are
wont to speak of others when they are in some per-
turbation of fear, or joy, or desire, merely as agitated
and disturbed, while we call those who have given
themselves up to grief wretched, afflicted, miserable,
unfortunate. Therefore it seems to have been pro-
posed by you, not by chance, but for sufficient rea-
son, that we should discuss grief separately from
the other perturbations ; for in grief is the fountain
and source of misery. But the cure of grief and of
the other diseases of mind is the same, namely, the
conviction that they all are matters of opinion, and
voluntary, and are yielded to because they are
thought to be right. This error, as the root of all
evils, Philosophy promises thoroughly to eradicate.
Let us then submit ourselves to her culture, and suf-
fer ourselves to be cured; for while these evils have
their seat within us, we not only cannot be happy,
we cannot even be sane. Let us therefore either
deny that anything is effected by reason, while, on

250 Cicero’s. Tusculan’ Disputations.

the other hand, nothing canbe rightly done without
reason ; or else, Philosophy consisting in the com-
parison of reasons, let us, if we wish to be good
and happy, seek from her every furtherance and
help toward living well and happily.

1 Every act of judgment is a comparison. Comprehension is
the taking of two things together. We cannot comprehend a
single object by itself, but only by comparing it with some object
more or less similar, or with some assumed standard of quality or
quantity. Cicero here means to say, that reason is the only fit-
ting guide of conduct, and that as philosophy consists in compar-
ing the premises which reason furnishes, and framing judgments
or forming conclusions from them, philosophy is pre-eminently
the guide of life.

BOOK V.
VIRTUE SUFFICIENT FOR HAPPINESS.

1. Tue Tusculan Disputations, Brutus, close with
this fifth day, on which we discussed the subject
that above all others seems to you deserving of
attention ; for I am made aware both by the very
earefully written. book! which you inscribed to me
and by many conversations with you, that you are
strongly of the opinion that. virtue of itself suffices
for a happy life. Though it is difficult to prove
this, on account of the many and various adverse
strokes of fortune, yet it is a truth of such a char-
acter that we ought to endeavor to make the proof
of it easy of apprehension: for there is no subject
in the. entire range of philosophy that admits of
more serious or more eloquent treatment. For
since the efficient motive of those who first devoted
themselves to the study of philosophy was the de-
sire to occupy themselves—all things else being
held as of inferior account—in quest of the best
condition of life, they certainly bestowed so large
an amount of time and labor on that inquiry with

1 A treatise on Virtue, referred to also in the De Finibus,
i. § 3.

252 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations,

the hope of living happily. Now if virtue was
discovered and perfected by them, and if virtue
indeed gives security for a happy life, who is there
that will not think that the work of philosophi-
zing was with pre-eminent fitness both initiated by
them and undertaken by me? But if virtue is
merely the slave of fortune, subjected to various
uncertain chances without sufficient strength for
its own defence, I fear that we should be less ready
to rely on our confidence in virtue for the hope of
a happy life than to seek it by vows to the gods.
Indeed, when I consider within myself the calami-
ties in which fortune has severely exercised me, I
sometimes begin to distrust this opinion, and to
dread the weakness and frailty incident to the hu-
man race; for I fear lest Nature, having given us
infirm bodies and annexed to them incurable dis-
eases and pains beyond endurance, may have given
us also souls both in sympathy with bodily pain,
and involved, beside, in vexations and troubles of
their own. But in this matter I reprove myself,
because I perhaps judge of the strength of virtue
from the effeminacy of others’ and my own, and not
from virtue itself. For virtue—if there only is
such a thing as virtue, a question, Brutus, which
your uncle?! settled in the affirmative—has under
its control all things that can befall man; in de-
spising them scorns human fortunes; and while

1 Cato Uticensis, whose half-sister Servilia was the mother of
Brutus.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 253

free from all blame, thinks that it has concern with
nothing outside of itself. But we, magnifying all
future adversities by fear, all present by grief, pre-
fer to pass condemnation on the nature of things
rather than on our own errors.

2. But the correction both of this offence and of
our other faults and sins is to be sought from Phi-
losophy, to whose bosom I had recourse in my ear-
liest years of my own free and earnest choice, and
now, tossed by the severest disasters, as by a heavy
storm, I flee to the same port whence I took sail.
O Philosophy, guide of life! O searcher out of
virtue, expeller of faults! What would not only
my own life, but that of the whole race of man,
have been without thee? Thou gavest birth to
cities. Thou didst call together scattered men to
live in society. Thou didst unite them with one
another, first by homes, then by marriages, then by
intercourse in writing and in speech. Thou art the
inventor of laws; thou, the mistress of morals and
discipline. I flee to thee. I seek thine aid. As
formerly in great part, so now with my inmost soul
and entirely, I yield myself up to thee. A single
day well spent and conformed to thy precepts is to
be preferred to a sinful immortality.1 Whose help

1 One cannot but be reminded of the parallelism between this
sentence and the verse of the Hebrew poet, ‘‘ A day in thy courts

is better than a thousand [elsewhere spent],” or, as it stands in
Dr. Watts’s well-known paraphrase,

‘Ts sweeter than ten thousand days
Of pleasurable sin.”

254 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

then may I use rather than that which comes from
thee, who hast in thy bounty given me tranquillity
of life, and hast taken away the fear of death? Yet
Philosophy is so far from being praised as she de-
serves for what she has done for human life, that,
neglected by most men, by some she is even spoken
of reproachfully. . Yet who dares to reproach the
parent of life, to defile himself with this parricide,
and to be so impiously ungrateful as to accuse her
whom he ought to revere, even if unable fully to
understand her? But, as I think, this error and
this darkness are brought upon the minds of the
unlearned, because they cannot look so far back,
and do not imagine that those by whom the life of
men was first ordered were philosophers.

3. While the thing itself is of the greatest anti-
quity, we yet confess that philosophy, as its name,
is recent.! For who indeed can deny that wisdom?
itself is ancient, not only in fact, but also in name ?
It attained this most illustrious name among the
men of early time by the knowledge of things
divine and human and of the beginnings and causes
of all things. Therefore we have learned that the
seven who were deemed and called by the Greeks
codoi, by our people “ wise,’ * and many centuries

1 Comparatively recent. The age of Pythagoras could be called
recent only in a modified sense.

2 Sapientia (including of course its Greek synonyme go¢ia).

3 * Wise.”

4 Sapientes, to which the English ‘‘sapient” corresponds in
derivation and sound, but less nearly in sense than ‘‘ wise.”

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 255

earlier, Lycurgus, in whose time Homer is said to
have lived, before this city was built, and already in
the heroic age, Ulysses and Nestor were, and were
esteemed to be, wise. Nor would Atlas have been
said in tradition to support the sky, or Prometheus
to have been nailed to Caucasus, nor Cepheus,! with
his wife, son-in-law and daughter, to have been
placed among the stars, unless their superhuman
knowledge of things heavenly had given over their
names to fabulous story. With these as leaders,
thenceforth all who had for their pursuit the con-
templation of nature were esteemed and called wise,
and that designation of them came down even to
Pythagoras, who— as Heraclides of Pontus, distin-
guished as a learned man and a disciple of Plato,
writes — was said to have come to Phlius, and to
have discussed certain subjects learnedly and co-
piously with Leon, king of the Phliasians. Leon,
admiring his genius and eloquence, asked him what
art he regarded as specially his own.? He replied
that he knew no art, but that he was a philosopher.
Leon, surprised by the novelty of the name, asked
him who the philosophers were, and what was the
difference between them and other men. Pythag-
oras answered, that human life seemed to him like

1 King of Ethiopia, husband of Cassiopeia, father of Androm-
eda, whose husband was Perseus. All four, by different titles to
such elevation, became stars.

2 Latin, qua maxime arte confideret, ‘in what art he reposed
the most confidence,” i. e. as furnishing him subjects and materi-
als for discourse.

256 Crcero’s Tusculan Disputations.

the concourse that brought all Greece together with
the greatest array of games. There, some, with
bodies specially trained, contended for the glory and
eminence of the crown; others were induced to
come by the purpose and expected gain of buying
or selling; while there was a certain class of those
present, and they of the highest quality, who sought
neither applause nor money, but came to look on,
and who studiously and thoroughly saw what was
done, and how. Thus of us men, as if from some
city into a great public concourse, coming into this
life from another life and nature,! some are subser-
vient to fame, some to money, while there are some
few who, holding everything else in no esteem, look
studiously into the nature of things. These call
themselves studious of wisdom, for that is what
“philosopher” means; and as at the games it is most
respectable to look on without getting anything for
one’s self, so in life the contemplation and knowl-
edge of things stand far before all other pursuits.
4. Nor was Pythagoras merely the inventor of
the name; he enlarged the range of subjects em-
braced in philosophy. When after the conversation
at Phlius he came into Italy, he made what was
called Magna Graecia illustrious by the most excel-
lent institutions and arts both in private and in
public. Of his system I may perhaps find some
other opportunity of speaking. But down to the

1 It must be remembered that the transmigration of souls was
a Pythagorean doctrine,

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 257

time of Socrates, who had heard the lectures of
Archelaus, a disciple of Anaxagoras, ancient philos-
ophy treated of numbers and motions, and the
beginning and end of everything, and its adepts
inquired into the magnitudes, distances and courses
of the stars and into whatever appertained to the
heavens. Socrates first called philosophy down
from heaven, and gave it a place in cities, and in-
troduced it even into men’s homes, and forced it to
make inquiry into life and morals, and things good
and evil. His manifold method of discussion, the
variety of his subjects, and the greatness of his
genius, consecrated by the memory and the writings
of Plato, gave rise to many schools of mutually dis-
senting philosophers, among which I have attached
myself chiefly to the method which I think that
Socrates pursued, concealing my own opinion,} re-
lieving others of their errors, and on every question
seeking to ascertain what is most probable. Car-
neades having employed this method with great
acuteness and copiousness of argument and illus-
tration, I have attempted to reason in the same
way, often on other occasions, and of late at Tuscu-
lum. I have sent you full written accounts of our
conversations on the previous days. On the fifth
day, after we had taken our seats together in the

1 Socrates, as reported by Plato, did not conceal his own
opinion, except at the beginning of a dialogue. His art consisted
in drawing out, by skilfully framed questions, his own opinions
from his collocutors.

17

258 Cicero’s Tuseulan Disputations.

same place, the subject of discussion was proposed
thus.

5. A. It does not seem to me that virtue can be
sufficient for a happy life.

M. But, by Hercules, it seems sufficient to my
friend Brutus, whose opinion, begging your pardon,
I far prefer to yours.

A. Undoubtedly. However, the question now
before us is not how much you love him, but what
is the worth of the opinion to which I have just
given utterance, which I wish you to discuss.

M. Do you then deny that virtue can be sufficient
for a happy life ?

A. I do utterly.

M. What? Does not virtue give sufficient help
to enable one to live rightly, honestly, honorably, in
fine, well ?

A, Yes, certainly.

M. Can you then either fail to call him miserable
who leads a bad life, or deny that he whom you
regard as living well lives happily ?

A, Why not? For a person even in torture may
live rightly, honestly, honorably, and therefore well,
if you only understand what I mean by “well,” that
is, firmly, seriously, wisely, bravely. These quali-
ties are sometimes thrown upon the rack, on which
there is not a breath of happy life.

M. What then? Is happy life alone left outside
of the gate and threshold of a prison, when firmness,
seriousness, courage, wisdom and the rest of the

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 259

virtues are given over to the tormentor, and shrink
from: no form of punishment or pain ?

A. You, if you are going to effect anything, must
strike out in some new direction. Such things: as
you now say move me very little, not only because
they have become so exceedingly common, but much
more, because, like certain light wines that will not
bear watering} so these maxims of the Stoics please
more when merely tasted than when drunk. Thus
that choir of virtues put upon the rack places before
the eyes images of such abounding dignity, that
happy life seems to stretch out eagerly to them, and
not to suffer them to be deserted: by it; but’ when
you transfer your mind from this picture and from
the images of the virtues to fact and truth, there
remains this naked question, whether one can be
happy so long as he is tormented. Let us now con-
fine our inquiry to this point. But do not fear that
the virtues will expostulate, and complain that they
are deserted by happy life ; for if there is no virtue
without prudence, Prudence herself sees that all the
good are not happy, and remembers many things
about Marcus Atilius,? Quintus Caepio,? Manius

1 For common daily use the Romans mixed their wine with
water.

2 Regulus, whose history — semi-fabulous undoubtedly — is
well known.

3 He, after having attained the highest offices and honors,
being defeated in a great battle with the Cimbri, and becoming
therefore unpopular, was banished on a malicious and perhaps
groundless charge, or, according to some accounts, died in prison.

260 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

Aquilius? Moreover, Prudence herself — if you
prefer figurative to literal diction —holds back a
happy life when it attempts to throw itself upon
the rack, and denies that a happy life has anything
in common with pain and torment.

6. M. I easily suffer you to behave in this way,
though it is unfair for you to prescribe for me the
method in which you wish me to discuss the sub-
ject. But let me ask you whether I am to think that
anything or nothing has been settled by our confer-
ences of the last four days.

A. Yes, some little.

M. Then, if so, this question is already almost
despatched, and brought to a conclusion.

A. How so?

M. Because turbulent movements and agitations
of the mind, excited and enhanced by thoughtless
impulse, and rejecting the control of reason, leave
nothing that belongs to a happy life. For who that
fears grief or pain, of which, though the one be
often absent,? the other is always impending, can
fail to be miserable? What if the same person, as
is very often the case, fears poverty, disgrace, in-
famy,® feebleness, blindness, finally, slavery, which

1 He was taken captive in the war with Mithridates, treated
with the foulest ignominy, scourged almost to death, and finally
killed by having molten gold poured into his mouth.

2 Latin, abest. Many editions, on good authority, have adest.
If this reading be admitted, our translation will be, ‘‘ of which
one is often present, the other always impending.”

3 In Rome, as in the other ancient republics, disgrace and

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 261

has been the lot, not only of individual men} but
often of powerful nations? Can any one who fears
these things be happy? What of him who not
only fears these things in the future, but also bears
and endures them in the present? Add to the lot
of the same person exile, bereavement, the death of
near kindred. How can he who, broken down by
these adverse events, is shattered by grief, be other-
wise than utterly wretched? What, again, of him
whom we see inflamed and maddened by inordinate
desires, craving everything rabidly with insatiable
yearning, and the more abundantly he drinks in
pleasures from every quarter, the more intensely
and ardently thirsting for them? Would you not
rightly call him utterly miserable? What? Is
not he who is elated with trifles, who exults with
an empty joy, and goes into ecstasy without reason,
the more miserable the more happy he is in his
own esteem? Then, as these are miserable, so, on
the other hand, are those happy whom no fears
alarm, no griefs corrode, no desires excite, no
empty and excessive joy melts with languid de-
lights. Therefore, as the sea is deemed tranquil
when not the least breeze stirs the waves, so is the
condition of mind seen to be quiet and calm, when
infamy might be incurred by the best men, notwithstanding their
virtues, or even on account of them.

1 Military life, even as late as Cicero’s time, formed a part of
the experience of almost every man of distinguished birth or sta-

tion, and death or slavery was the only alternative for captives
of war.

262 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

there is no perturbation by which it can be moved.
Now if there is a man who regards the force of for-
tune, all things human, whatever can happen, as
endurable, so that neither fear nor grief can assail
him, and if he at the same time desires nothing,
and has a mind that cannot be elated by any empty
pleasure, what reason is there why he may not be
happy? And if these results are brought about by
virtue, why may not virtue itself by its own efficacy
make men happy ?

7. A. As regards the former of these questions,
it is undeniable that those who fear nothing, are
grieved by nothing, covet nothing, and are elated
by no weak joy, are happy. I therefore concede so
much as this to you.. But the other question does
not remain untouched; for in our former discus-
sions it was proved that the wise man is free from
all disturbances of mind.

M. Evidently then the discussion is finished ;. for
the question seems to have come to an end.

A. Nearly so, indeed.

M. Yet this prompt settlement of a question is
the custom of mathematicians rather than of: phi-
losophers.. Geometricians, when they want to es-
tablish a proposition, if anything that they have
previously demonstrated belongs to the case in hand,
take it for granted and proved, and explain only
that about which they have not previously written.
Philosophers, whatever subject they have in hand,
heap together upon it everything that has reference

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 263

to it, although it has been fully expounded before.
If it were not so, why should the Stoic have much
to say on the question whether virtue would suffice
for a happy life? It would be enough for him to
answer that he had already shown that nothing is
good except what is right, and that, this proved, it
follows that a happy life is content with virtue. He
might then show how it is reciprocally true that, if
a happy life is content with virtue, nothing is good
except what is right. Yet this is not their way;
for they have different books about the right and
the supreme good, and while from the former it may
be proved that there is sufficiently great power in
virtue to produce a happy life, they nevertheless
give a separate discussion to this point, maintaining
that every subject, especially one of so great import-
ance as this, is to be dealt with by arguments and
counsels peculiarly its own. Take care then how
you imagine in Philosophy any clearer voice than
she utters in this matter, or any richer or greater
promise within her gift than she tenders. For, ye
immortal gods, what does she profess? That she
will so perfect him who has obeyed her laws, that
he should be always armed against fortune ; that he
should have within himself all resources for a good
and happy life; finally, that he should be always
happy. But I would fain see what she has accom-
plished, so high an estimate do I put upon her
promise, Xerxes, indeed, replete with all the prizes
and gifts of fortune, not content with his cavalry,

264 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

his foot-soldiers, his vast fleet, his boundless supply
of gold, offered a reward to him who should have
invented a new pleasure, — with which he was
not satisfied ; for never will desire find an end. I
could wish that by a reward we could call forth the
man who should have brought to us somewhat to
strengthen our belief in the power of virtue to
create happiness.

8. A. I wish so too; but I want to inquire a
little farther. I agree with you that each of the two
propositions which you have laid down is properly
inferred from the other, — that in the same way in
which, if the right alone is good, it follows that
virtue creates a happy life, so if a happy life con-
sists in virtue, it follows that nothing is good except
virtue. But your friend Brutus, under the author-
ity of Ariston and Antiochus,? is not precisely of
your opinion ; for he thinks that virtue would still
be essential to a happy life, even if there be some
other good than virtue.

M. What then? Do you think that I am going
to argue against Brutus ?

A. You will, indeed, do as you please ; for it does
not belong to me to mark out beforehand your course
of reasoning.

1 There crops out in several passages in this section, as at the
close, the belief of the Stoics that their exalted ideal of the effi-
cacy of virtue had never had its full illustration in actual life,
not even in the person of their revered founder.

2 They were brothers. Antiochus was, as we have seen before
(iii. § 25), the preceptor of Cicero ; Brutus was Ariston’s pupil.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 265

M. Let the question of consistency be considered
on some other occasion. On this subject I have
often expressed my dissent in discussing it with
Antiochus, and more recently with Ariston, when
during my service as commander?! I lodged with
him at Athens ; for it did not seem to me that any
one could be happy in the experience of evils, and
that such might be the wise man’s experience, if
there were any evils of body or of fortune. It was
said, as Antiochus has repeatedly written, that vir-
tue itself can make a happy life, yet not the hap-
piest ; then, that most things derive their names
from their own greater part, even if as to that part
there be some deficiency, like health, riches, honor,
fame, which are ascribed to their possessor by kind
and not by quantity; and that in like manner a
happy life, even if defective in some part, derives
its name from by far the larger part. These things
it is not now so necessary as it then seemed to de-
velop in full, although they appear to me to have
been said inconsistently ; for I do not now under-
stand what he who is happy requires in order to be
more happy. If there is anything wanting, he is
not happy ; and as to maintaining that everything
is named and reckoned from the greater part of
itself, there are things as to which this is true. But

1 Latin, imperator. Cicero received this title from the Senate,
on account of his success in certain military operations during his
Cilician proconsulate. It was on his return from Cilicia that he
lodged with Ariston.

266 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

when it is said that there are three kinds of evils,
as to him who is under the pressure of all the evils
of two kinds, so that in his fortune everything is
adverse, and his body is weighed down and worn
out by every description of pain, shall we maintain
that he falls but little short of a happy life, to say
nothing of the happiest ?

9. This is what Theophrastus could not main-
tain ; for having come to the conclusion that stripes,
torture, torment, the overthrow of one’s country,
exile, bereavement, have great power in producing
an evil and miserable life, he did not dare to speak
loftily and largely while humble and depressed in
feeling. How well it was for him to feel thus is not
the question. He was certainly consistent in what
he said. I am not indeed wont to find fault with
conclusions where the premises are admitted. Yet
he, the most elegant and erudite of all philosophers,
is not much blamed for saying that there are three
kinds of goods; but he is abused by every one,
especially for what he says in his book on a Happy
Life, in which he shows at great length why one
who is tortured and tormented cannot be happy,
and is reputed to say that a happy life cannot be
broken on the wheel. He does not indeed any-
where say precisely this ; but what he says is equiv-
alent to it. Can I then be displeased with him to
whom I formerly would have granted that pains of
body and the wreck of fortune are among the evils,
for maintaining that not all the good are happy,

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 267

while those things which he reckons as evils may
happen to any one of the good? Theophrastus is
also abused in the books and schools of all the
philosophers, because in his Callisthenes he com-
mended the sentiment, —

** Fortune, not wisdom, has the rule of life.”

They allege that no philosopher ever said anything
weaker, and they are right; but in my opinion noth- —
ing could have been said more consistently. For if
there are so many goods in the body, and so many
outside of the body in accident and fortune, is it
not in accordance with this fact that Fortune, the
mistress of outward things and of those pertaining
to the body, has more power than wise counsel? Or
do we prefer to copy Epicurus? who says things
many and often exceedingly well, but in what he
says takes no pains about self-consistency and. per-
tinency. He commends simple living. Philoso-
phers do the same; but it would seem natural for
Socrates or Antisthenes to have spoken thus, not
for him who pronounces: pleasure the supreme good
of life:. He denies that any one can live pleasantly,
unless he at the same time live rightly, wisely
and justly. Nothing is more sound, nothing more
worthy of philosophy, unless that “rightly, wisely
and justly” be referred. to pleasure as a standard.
What could have been said better than that fortune
is of small concern to a wise man ?.. But is not this
said by him who, having pronounced pain not only

268 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

the greatest of evils, but even the only evil, may
himself be overwhelmed by the severest pains at
the moment when he is boasting against fortune ?
This same thing also Metrodorus! expressed in a
better form, saying, “I have laid hands on thee, O
Fortune, and taken thee captive, and have blocked
up all thine avenues of approach, so that thou canst
not come near me.” This would have been admir-
able, had it been said by Ariston of Chios or by
Zeno the Stoic, who accounted nothing as evil
which was not disgraceful. But as for you, Metro-
dorus, who stow all good in the bowels and marrow,
and define the supreme good as contained in a
strong bodily constitution and a well-grounded hope
that it will last, have you blocked up Fortune’s
avenues of approach? How? You may at the
present moment be deprived of that good.

10. Yet by such sayings many who are not
versed in philosophy are captivated, and sentiments
of this sort secure for those who give them utterance
a multitude of followers. But it is the part of one
who would reason with proper discrimination to
look not at what a man says, but at what he can
consistently say. Thus in the very opinion which
I have undertaken to maintain in this discussion,
that all the good are always happy, it is plain what
I mean by “good ;” for we call those endowed and
adorned with all the virtues not only wise, but good
men. Let us then see who are to be called “happy.”

1 See ii. § 3.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 269

TI indeed regard those as happy who are in the pos-
session of goods, with no addition of evil. Nor
when we use the word “happy,” is there any other
idea underlying it than a cumulated group of goods,
without the presence of any evil. This, virtue can-
not obtain, if there be any good except itself ;1 for
there will be present a certain crowd of evils, if
we deem them evils,— poverty, want of distinc-
tion, lowly estate, loneliness, loss of kindred, severe
bodily pain, failure of health, feebleness, blindness,
the overthrow of one’s country, exile, finally, sla-
very. In these misfortunes so many and so great
(nay, even more may happen), the wise man may be
involved; for these things occur by accident, from
which a wise man is not exempt. But if these are
evils, who will give pledge that the wise man shall
be happy, when he is liable even to all of these at
one time? I do not therefore readily concede either
to my friend Brutus, or to the preceptors common
to him and me, or to the ancients, Aristotle, Speusip-
pus, Xenocrates, Polemon, the liberty of reckoning
among evils those things enumerated above, and at
the same time saying that the wise man is always
happy. If they are delighted with the designation
of “happy” as striking and beautiful, as pre-emi-
nently worthy of Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, let

1 The ‘‘cumulated group of goods” (for so I think that cwmu-
lata bonorum complexio should be rendered), consists of the several
parts of virtue, or the single virtues, which are here treated as a
unit.

270 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

them bring their minds to despise those things
whose splendor captivates them, strength, beauty,
health, honors, power, and to count their opposites
as of no concern, and then they will be able to make
the clearest profession that they are terrified neither
by the assault of fortune, nor by the opinion of the
multitude, nor by pain, nor by poverty, that they
have within themselves everything that they need,
and that there can be nothing beyond their own
control which they can reckon among goods. For
it is insufferable that one should say these things
which befit a great and high-minded man, and yet
number among evils and goods the same objects
which are so called by common people. Moved by
the fame that attends these lofty professions, Epi-
curus comes forth, maintaining that, if the gods so
please, a wise man is always happy. He is capti-
vated by the elevation of this sentiment; but he
never would have spoken thus, had he listened to
himself. _ For what can be less fitting than that he
who pronounces pain either the greatest or the only
evil should suppose that the wise man, when tor-
mented by pain, will say, “How sweet this is!”
Philosophers then are to be judged not by single
utterances, but by their wonted tone of thought and
their self-consistency.

11. A. You compel my assent. But beware lest
you too may be found not entirely consistent with
yourself.

M. How?

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 271

A. I lately read your fourth book on the Ex-
tremes of Good and Evil. In this, while arguing
against Cato, you evidently wished to show, that is,
as I take it, to prove, that there is no difference
between Zeno and the Peripatetics, except as to
certain new terms. If this is so, why, if it accords
with Zeno’s reasoning that there is sufficient efficacy
in virtue to create a happy life, may not the Peri-
patetics say the same? I think that we should
look at the thing itself, not at words.

M. You appeal to my writings, and testify to
what I may at some time have said or written.
You may deal in this way with others, who in their
discussions follow prescribed rules. We, Academi-
cians,! live for the passing day; we say whatever
strikes our minds as probable; and so we alone are
free. But yet, since we were speaking a little
while ago of consistency, I do not think that the
inquiry here is whether it is true that Zeno and his
pupil Ariston regarded the right as the only good,
but, this being so, whether they thought a happy
life dependent on virtue alone. Therefore we may
certainly suffer Brutus to maintain that the wise
man is always happy. His consistency with him-
self is his own concern. Who indeed is more

1 [ have inserted this word without anything corresponding to
it in the Latin text. The last clause of the sentence seems to
show that Cicero is speaking in the name of his school, and not
of himself alone, though he is wont to use the first person plural
in speaking of himself.

272 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

worthy than he of the fame that belongs to this
opinion? Still let us maintain that, even if others
are happy, the wise man is the happiest of allt

12. Although Zeno, coming from Citium, of a
foreign stock,2 and by no means distinguished as a
writer, seems to have made his way into a place
not natively his own among the ancient philoso-
phers, the weight of his opinion may be enhanced
by the authority of Plato, who often says that noth-
ing ought to be called “ good” except virtue; as in
the Gorgias, when Socrates was asked whether he
did not account Archelaus, the son of Perdiccas, as
happy, he replied that he had never talked with
him. “Do you mean to say that there is no other
way of knowing whether he is happy?” “There
is no other.” “Can you not then say whether the
great king of the Persians is happy?” “Can I,
when I know not how intelligent or how good a
man he is?” “What? Do you think that this is
what constitutes a happy life?” “I certainly think
so. I regard the good as happy, the bad as miser-

1 The Peripatetics, and, it would seem, Brutus with them,
while they taught that the perfectly wise man must be happy,
yet placed a high value on health, riches, honors, and the like,
which the Stoics affected to despise ; and maintained both that a
certain kind or degree of happiness, though of an inferior type,
might ensue from the possession of these things, and that they
enhanced the happiness even of the wise man.

2 Citium, in Cyprus, was a Phoenician colony, so that Zeno,
though he lived long in Athens, was still regarded as a foreigner.

Many of the other Greek philosophers were born in Greek colonies
more or less remote from Athens, yet were of Greek parentage.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 273

able.” “Is Archelaus miserable then?” “Assur-
edly, if he is unrighteous.”! Does he not seem
here to make a happy life to depend entirely on
virtue? What more? What does the same man
say in the Funeral Oration?? “The best mode of
living is secured to him for whom all things that
tend to a happy life are furnished from within, and
do not hang in suspense on the good or ill for-
tune of others, or vary with the events that befall
another. This man is moderate, brave, wise, and
when other goods come and go, most of all, when
his children are born and die, he will be submissive
and obedient to the old precept; for he will never
rejoice or grieve overmuch, because he will always
repose in himself all hope for himself.” From this
saying of Plato then, as from a fountain sacred and
august, my whole discussion shall flow.

13. Whence then can we more fittingly start
upon our course than from our common parent,
Nature ? whose purpose it was that whatever she
has brought forth, not only animals, but that which
so springs from the earth as to be supported by its

1 Archelaus was the son of Perdiccas, king of Macedonia, by a
slave-mother. On his father’s death he usurped the sovereignty,
and afterward killed the legitimate heir of the throne. His reign
was prosperous and wise; yet in the estimation of Socrates, or of
Plato, who speaks by the mouth of Socrates, the crimes to which
he owed the kingdom sufficed to preclude him from a happy life.

2 An imaginary funeral oration in the Menexenws, in which
Socrates, or Plato in his name, gives what may be called a serious
parody of the funeral orations of Thucydides and Lysias.

18

274 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

own roots, should be perfect, each in its kind. Thus
of trees, and vines, and the humbler plants that
cannot raise themselves far above the ground, some
are evergreen ; others, bare in winter, when warmed
by spring, put forth leaves; nor is there any one
of them which does not so thrive by certain move-
ments within, and by its seed included in itself, as
to yield either blossoms, or grain, or berries ; and
in all of them everything is perfect, if there be no
hindrance from without. But the force of Nature
can be more easily discerned in animals, because
she has endowed them with the perceptive faculty.
She has ordained some, able to swim, to inhabit the
waters, others, winged, to enjoy the freedom of the
sky, some to creep, some to walk, a part to be soli-
tary, a part gregarious, some to be savage, some
tame, a part to hide and burrow beneath the ground.
Each of these, retaining its proper place, unable to
pass into the life of an animal unlike itself, adheres
to the law of Nature. As some specialty is bestowed
by Nature on each animal, which it holds as its
own, and does not depart from it, to man is given
something far more excellent though “excellent”
is a comparative term, and is not properly used
where comparison is impossible, and the human
soul, derived? from the divine mind, can be com-

1 Latin, praestantius. ‘‘ Excellent” is properly a comparative
term, no less than praestans, which it most nearly represents.

2 Latin, decerptus, literally, “ plucked,” —a stronger figure
than our language can well bear.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 275

pared, if I may so say without irreverence, only
with God himself. This soul then, if it is thor-
oughly cultivated, and if its keenness of vision is
so cherished that it cannot be blinded by errors,
becomes perfect, that is, absolute reason, which is
identical with virtue. Now if that to which noth-
ing is wanting, and which is full and complete in
its kind, is happy, and if this is the property of
virtue, then certainly all who are possessed of vir-
tue are happy; and in this I agree with Brutus,
that is to say, with Aristotle, Xenocrates, Speu-
sippus, Polemon. To me such men seem even
supremely happy. For what is wanting to a
happy life in him who trusts in goods that are
absolutely his own? Or how can he who has
not this trust be happy? But it must necessarily
be lacking in him who makes a threefold division
of goods.

14, For who can trust either in strength of body
or in stability of fortune? Yet no man can be
happy, unless possessed of stable and fixed and per-
manent good. But what that can be so described
can belong to those who recognize the three kinds
of goods? It seems to me that we may apply to
them the saying of the Spartan who, when a mer-
chant boasted that he had sent many ships to every
port, replied, “That fortune rigged with ropes is not
much to be desired.” Is it not certain that noth-

1 Goods of mind, of body, and of fortune.
2 Over but one of which he can have.any control.

276 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

ing which can be lost can be placed among the con-
stituent elements of a happy life? Not one of those
things which go to make up a happy life ought to
wither, or perish, or fail; for he who fears that he
may lose any of them will be incapable of happi-
ness. For we understand that he who is happy is
safe, impregnable, hedged in and fortified, so that he
may be subject, not to little fear, but to none at all.
As not one who is slightly guilty, but one who has
done no wrong, is called “innocent,” so not he who
fears a little, but he who is wholly free from fear, is
to be regarded as fearless. What else is courage
than an affection of the mind, at once patient in the
face of peril and in labor and pain, and far from all
fear? Now this certainly could not be the condi-
tion of any human being, unless all good consists in
the right alone. How can one who has or may have
a multitude of evils to endure possess that security
which is most desired and sought, if we indeed mean
by “security” the freedom from grief on which
a happy life depends? How can one be lofty and
erect, and capable of regarding all things that can
happen to man as of small account, as should be
the case with the wise man, unless he shall consider
everything that concerns himself as depending on
himself? Did the Lacedaemonians, when Philip
threatened by letter that he would prevent what-
ever they might undertake, ask in reply whether he
would prevent their killing themselves; and shall
not the like-minded man whom we seek be much

Virtue sufficient for Happiness, 277

more easily found than a state so disposed? What ?
If temperance, which calms all inward agitations,
be added to this courage of which I speak, what
can be wanting to constitute a happy life for him
whom courage defends from grief and fear, while
temperance calls him away from inordinate desire,
and will not suffer him to be elated by presumptu-
ous joy? That such is the effect of virtue I would
show, had not this proposition been fully developed
on the previous days.

15. Now since perturbations of mind create
misery, while quietness of mind makes life happy,
and since there are two kinds of perturbations, grief
and fear having their scope in imagined evils, inor-
dinate joy and desire in mistaken notions of the
good, all being repugnant to wise counsel and rea-
son, will you hesitate to call him happy whom you
see relieved, released, free from these excitements
so oppressive, and so at variance and divided among
themselves ? Indeed one thus disposed is always
happy. ‘Therefore the wise man is always happy.
Then too, everything good is joy-giving ; whatever
is joy-giving may be commended and made the
subject of self-congratulation ; whatever is of this
character is of good report;1 if of good report, it is
certainly praiseworthy: but what is praiseworthy
is surely right. Therefore what is good is right.

1 Latin, gloriosum. But its place is not high enough in the
sorites, to admit of its being rendered “famous” or “glorious,”
which otherwise would be the more obvious rendering.

278 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

But the goods which those of a different opinion
put upon their list they themselves do not call
right; therefore, what is right alone being good, a
happy life is contained in the right alone. Those
things in which one may abound and yet be utterly
miserable are not to be called or esteemed “goods.”
Do you hesitate as to a man who excels in health,
in strength, in beauty, and with senses perfectly
sound and of the keenest discernment; add, if you
will, agility and swiftness; give him also wealth, civic
honors, military commands, power, fame: if he who
has all these be dishonest, intemperate, cowardly,
dull and insignificant in mind, — will you hesitate
to call him miserable? Let us see whether, as a
heap of wheat is made up of grains of its own kind,
so a happy life ought not to be constituted of parts
like itself. If this be so, happiness must be made
up only of goods that are right. If they shall be
mixed with things unlike, nothing right can be
made from them ; and if the right be taken away,
what will remain that can be regarded as happy?
For whatever is good is desirable because it is good;
whatever is desirable is worthy of approbation;
whatever is worthy of approbation is to be regarded
as grateful and acceptable. Therefore honor must
be paid to it. But if so, it must of necessity be
praiseworthy. Therefore everything good is praise-
worthy. Whence it is inferred that only what is
right is good.

16. Unless we adhere to this opinion, there will

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 279

be many things which we shall have to call “ good.”
I say nothing of wealth, which I do not reckon among
the goods, since any one, however unworthy, may
have it; while not every man can possess what is
really good. I say nothing of reputation and popu-
larity, which may be due to the common sentiment
of fools and rascals. Were these things admitted
to be goods, we should have to give that name to
the merest trifles, such as teeth delicate and white,
beautiful eyes, fair complexion, and what Anticlea?
praises when she is washing the feet of Ulysses,

‘Smoothness of skin, and gentleness of speech.”

If we shall esteem these things as goods, what will
there be that can be called of more weight or mo-
ment in the grave pursuits of the philosopher than
in the opinion of the common people and in the
crowd of the unwise? The Stoics apply the terms
“special” ® and “preferable” * to what those who
differ from them and me call “goods.” These men
call them “goods” indeed; yet they admit that they
do not suffice to fill out a happy life. They think,
however, that a life cannot be happy without them,

1 Latin, candiduli dentes.

2 In the Odyssey, it is Euryclea, the nurse, who washes the
feet of Ulysses. Anticlea was his mother. Either Cicero, by
lapse of memory, substituted one name for the other, or — what
is more probable — quoted another tradition, connected with the
verse here quoted, which is a genuine verse, but not translated
from the Odyssey.

8 Latin, praecipua.

4 Latin, producta.

280 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

or if happy, certainly not so happy as it might be.
But I mean to say that the right alone suffices for
the very happiest life, and I am confirmed in this
by the conclusion of Socrates; for thus said that
prince of philosophy :—“ As the disposition of one’s
mind is, such is the man; as the man himself is,
so is his speech; then again, his acts are like his
speech ; his life, like his acts.” But in a good man
the disposition of his mind is praiseworthy, and
right because praiseworthy, whence the conclusion
is that the life of the good is happy. For I invoke
the faith of gods and men, and ask whether it was
determined in our former discussions — or whether
we talked for amusement and pastime — that the
wise man is always free from all that excitement of
mind which I call “ perturbation.” Is not, then, the
temperate, self-consistent man, without fear, without
grief, without any excessive joy, without inordinate
desire, happy ? But such is the wise man always.
He is therefore always happy. Now how can a
good man fail to refer everything that he does or
thinks to praiseworthiness as a standard? But he
does in fact refer everything to happiness of life as
a standard. Therefore a happy life is praiseworthy.
Nor is anything praiseworthy without virtue; there-
fore it is virtue that constitutes a happy life.

17. The same conclusion may also be reached as
follows. Ina miserable life there is nothing worthy
of mention, or to be gloried in; nor yet in the life
that is neither miserable nor happy. But there is

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 281

in some sort of life that which is worthy of men-
tion, and to be gloried in, and to be proud of, as
when Epaminondas says,

** The Spartan fame was by my counsels shorn,” 1
or Africanus,
** From farthest East, beyond the Euxine sea,

Whose deeds of prowess can compare with mine?” 2
But if there is such a thing as a happy life, it is to
be gloried in, and made mention of, and held as an
object of pride; nor is there anything else which
can be worthy of mention and of pride. This estab-
lished, you understand what follows. Indeed, un-
less that life is happy which is also right, there must
of necessity be something better than a happy life;
for all will certainly grant that whatever is right is
better. Thus there will be something better than a
happy life, than which can anything be said that is
more preposterous? What? When it is acknowl-
edged that in vices there is a sufficiently great force
to produce a miserable life, must it not be acknowl-
edged that there is equal power in virtue? For
contraries follow from contraries. Here I ask, what
force has the balance of Critolaus ?2 who, when he
puts into one scale the goods of the mind, into the

1 The first verse of an inscription on a statue of Epaminondas.

2 From an epigram by Ennius.

8 A Peripatetic philosopher, associated with Carneades and
Diogenes in the famous mission from Athens to Rome, B. 0. 155.
As a Peripatetic, he thinks outward and bodily good worth put-
ting into the scale, though outweighed by goods of a higher order.

282 Cicero's Tuseulan Disputations.

other those of the body and of the outside world,
thinks that the scale containing the goods of the
mind so far preponderates as to outweigh? earth
and sea.

18. What then is there to hinder either him, or
even Xenocrates, that bravest of philosophers, while
so diligently aggrandizing virtue and attenuating
and debasing everything else, from making not only
a happy life, but the happiest life possible, consist
in virtue? Otherwise, their theory will result in
the destruction of virtue. For he who is liable to
grief must of necessity be liable to fear, since fear
is but the anxious expectation of future grief; but
he who is liable to fear is equally so to dread, ti-
midity, trepidation, cowardice, — therefore liable at
some time to be overcome; nor will he regard as
applicable to himself that precept of Atreus,

** So order life as to remain unconquered.” 2

But he will be overcome, as I have said, and not
only overcome, but also enslaved. Now we would
have virtue always free, always unconquered. Oth-
erwise virtue ceases to be. Moreover, if there is in
virtue sufficient aid for living well, there is suffi-
cient also for living happily. Now there is certainly
enough in virtue to enable us to live bravely; if
bravely, enough for us to live magnanimously, and

1 Latin, deprimat, which denotes ‘‘ depressing,” not throwing
upward in the lighter scale. This is one of the amazingly few

instances in which Cicero uses a word carelessly.
2 From the Atreus of Attius.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 283

indeed so that nothing can ever terrify us and we
may be always unconquered. It follows that in
this state there is nothing to be repented of, noth-
ing wanting, no hindrance. Thus everything will
be in an affluent, untrammelled, prosperous condi-
tion; therefore happy. But virtue can suffice for
living bravely ; it therefore suffices also for living
happily. As folly, although it has attained what
it coveted, yet never thinks that it has enough,
on the other hand wisdom is always contented
with the present, and never finds reason for self-
reproach,

19. You have the record of but one consulship
of Caius Laelius, and that indeed after he had been
rejected as a candidate (unless when a wise and
good man like him fails of election it is not rather
the people that are rejected by a good consul than
he by a fickle people) ; yet which would you prefer,
were it in your power, to be a consul once like
Laelius, or four times like Cinna? I know what
your answer would be, and so I see to whom I can
safely put the question, although I would not put
it to every one; for some other person might per-
haps reply that he would prefer not only four con-
sulships to one, but a single day of Cinna to whole
ages of many men who were also eminent. Laelius,
if he had touched any one with his finger, would have
submitted to the legal penalty. But Cinna ordered
the beheading of his colleague in the consulship,
Gneius Octavius, of Publius Crassus, of Lucius

284 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

Caesar, men of the highest eminence, whose signal
merit had been recognized both in the civil and the
military service, of Marcus Antonius, the most elo-
quent man that I ever heard, of Caius Caesar, who
seemed to me the model of politeness, wit, sweet-
ness of temper and genial intercourse. Was he
who killed them happy? On the other hand, he
seems to me miserable, not only because he did
these things, but because he so conducted himself
that it was lawful for him to do them! Yet it is
not really lawful for any one to do wrong; we fail
here by a misuse of words, calling what a man is
permitted to do lawful. Was not Marius happier
when he shared the fame of victory over the Cimbri
with his colleague Catulus, who was almost another
Laelius (for I trace a very close resemblance be-
tween the two) than when, conqueror in civil war,
he in his anger, not once, but many times, answered
the friends of Catulus who made supplication for
his life, “Let him die.” In this instance he who
yielded to the abominable decree was happier than
he who issued a command so wicked. While it is
better to receive an injury than to inflict one, so
was it better to go a little way to meet approach-
ing death? as Catulus did, than, like Marius, to
cover with shame his six years’ consulship and

1 By decrees of the Senate, which made him virtually an
autocrat.

2 Finding that escape was impossible, he suffocated himself
with the fumes of burning charcoal,

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 285

to contaminate his old age by the death of such
@ man.

20. For thirty-eight years Dionysius was tyrant
of the Syracusans, having taken violent possession
of the sovereignty at the age of twenty-five. How
beautiful and rich a city was that which he held
in slavish oppression! Yet on excellent authority
we read that he was severely temperate in his
mode of living, alert and diligent in business, but
at the same time by nature malevolent and unjust.
Therefore to all who look closely at the truth he
must of necessity seem utterly miserable; for while
he thought his power unlimited, the very things
which he had coveted he failed to obtain. Born
of good parents and in a respectable position
(though as to this accounts vary), with very nu-
merous friends of his own age and many near kin-
dred, he trusted none of them, but committed the
charge of his person to slaves whom he chose from
among those belonging to rich owners, and to cer-
tain immigrants and rude barbarians. He thus, on
account of his unrighteous lust for power, had vir-
tually shut himself up in prison. Even unwilling
to trust his neck to a barber, he taught his daugh-
ters to shave him. So these royal maidens, prac-
‘tising a low and menial art, like little barbers,
shaved their father’s beard and hair. Yet even
from them, as they grew up, he took away the

1 Latin, tonstriculae, diminutive of tonstriz,—a not uncom-
mon word, as there were many female barbers in Rome.

286 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

razor, and made them burn his beard and hair with
red-hot walnut-shells. Having two wives, Aristom-
ache, a native of Syracuse, and Doris from Locris,
when he came to them by night he first made a
thorough search and examination of everything
about them. Having surrounded the place where
his bed was with a broad ditch, and arranged a
wooden bridge for crossing the ditch, after closing
the door of his bedroom he drew the bridge over
to his side of the water. Not daring to stand on
ordinary platforms, he harangued the people from
the top of a high tower. When he wanted to play
ball—his favorite amusement — and laid aside his
tunic, a youth whom he loved is said to have held
his sword. But when a friend of his said one day
in jest, “You are certainly putting your life into
this young man’s hands,” and the youth smiled, he
ordered them both to be killed, —the one for indi-
cating a way in which his life might be taken, the
other for showing approval of what was said by
smiling. But after this was done he was so grieved
that in his whole life he had never borne a heavier
affliction; for he had the greatest love possible for
the young man whose death he had ordered. Thus
the desires of weak men are drawn in opposite
directions, and when such a person pursues this
course, he runs counter to that. This tyrant, how-
ever, showed how happy he was.

21. When Damocles, one of his flatterers, in talk-
ing with him, recounted his forces, his power, the

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 287

majesty of his reign, the abundance of his posses-
sions, the magnificence of his palace, and said that
there had never been a happier man, he replied,
“ Damocles, since this life charms you, do you want
to taste it yourself, and to make trial of my for-
tune?” He answering in the affirmative, Dionys-
ius commanded the man to be placed upon a golden
couch with a covering most beautifully woven and
magnificently embroidered, and furnished for him
several sideboards with chased silver and gold.
Then he ordered boys chosen for their surpassing
beauty to stand at the table, and watching his nod,
to serve him assiduously. There were ointments,
garlands. Perfumes were burned. The tables were
spread with the most exquisite viands. Damocles
thought himself favored of Fortune. In the midst
of this array Dionysius ordered a glittering sword
attached to a horse-hair to be let down from the
ceiling, so as to hang over the neck of the happy
man. After this, Damocles had no eye for the beau-
tiful servants nor for the silver richly wrought, nor
did he reach forth his hand to the table. The gar-
lands were already fading. At length he begged
the tyrant to let him go; for he no longer wanted
to be happy.! Does not Dionysius seem thus to

1 Horace refers to this story (iii. 1).

“ Districtus ensis cui super impia
Cervice pendet, non Siculae dapes
Dulcem elaborabunt saporem,
Non avium citharaeque cantus
Somnum reducent.”

288 Cicero’s. Tusculan Disputations.

have declared that there can be no happiness for
him over whom some terror is always impend-
ing? Yet it was no longer possible for him to
return to justice, and to restore to the citizens their
liberty and their rights. In his youth, at an im-
provident age, he had so ensnared himself by
wrong-doings, and had committed them to such an
extent, that he could not be safe if he began to
behave reasonably.

22. What need he felt of friends, while he
dreaded their unfaithfulness, he showed in the case
of those two Pythagoreans, one of whom he ac-
cepted as surety for the other when under sentence
of death. When the doomed man appeared promptly
at the hour appointed for his execution, Dionysius
said, “O that you would take me as a third friend!”
How miserable it was for him to lack entirely the
intercourse of friends, companionship at table, famil-
iar conversation ! especially for a man from his boy-
hood well educated and versed in liberal arts, also
very fond of music,—a tragic poet too, how good
it matters not, —I know not why, but in poetry
more than in anything else every one admires his
own. I have never known a poet — and Aquinius
was my friend! — who was not convinced of his

1 The only thing that we know about Aquinius is that he was
famed for the utter worthlessness of his poetry. He is among
those whom Catullus thus apostrophizes : —

** Vos hinc interea valete, abite
Illuc, unde malum pedem tulistis,
Secli incommoda, pessimi poetae.”

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 3 289

own transcendent merit. The case is, “You are
charmed with what you write; I, with what I
write.” But to return to Dionysius: he dwelt
apart from all refinement of culture and manners.
He lived with fugitives, criminals, barbarians.
He thought that no one could be his friend who
was either worthy of freedom or had any desire to
be free.

23. Now I will not compare the life of Plato or
Archytas, so well known as learned and wise men,
with the life of this man than which I can imagine
nothing more foul, wretched, detestable. I will call
up from the dust and wand! a humble and obscure
man? of that same city, Archimedes, who lived
many years® after Dionysius. When I was quaes-
tor in Sicily, I found, hedged in and overgrown
with briers and brambles, his tomb, unknown by
the Syracusans, who did not believe in its exist-
ence. I retained in my memory certain verses

1 Latin, a pulvere et radio. The ancient mathematicians used
tablets covered with sand (pulvere), on which they drew their
diagrams with a staff or wand (radio).

2 Latin, humilem homunculum. By our modern standard Ar-
chimedes belongs among the greatest men of antiquity. But he
was not called and did not profess to be a philosopher, and no
other title to eminence in the intellectual hierarchy approached
that of a philosopher. Here it must be remembered that, though
the early philosophers speculated largely and profoundly in the
realm of physics, their speculations in this realm — unless Aris-
totle be a partial exception— were rather metaphysical, than
mathematical or scientific.

® About two hundred years.

19

290 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

which I had heard were inscribed on his monument,
in which it was said that a sphere with a cylinder
was placed on the top of his tomb. After making
thorough search (for there are a great many tombs
close together near the gate Achradina), I noticed
a column very little higher than the surrounding
shrubbery, with the figures of a sphere and a cylin-
der on it. I at once said to the Syracusans, some
of their chief men being with me, that I thought
that this column was what I had been looking for.
Many laborers with scythes were sent in to clear
and open the place. When the entrance was ac-
cessible, I stood over against the base of the column,
on which was an inscription with the latter parts of
the several verses almost half obliterated. Thus a
Grecian city of the highest renown, formerly also
pre-eminent for learning, would not have known
the monument of the keenest intellect that ever
lived in it, had it not ascertained the spot through a
native of Arpinum. But to return from this digres-
sion: who is there that has any intercourse with the
Muses, that is, with polite literature and with learn-
ing, who would not rather be this mathematician
than that tyrant? If we look into their mode of
life and course of conduct, the mind of the one was
fed by scientific contemplation and research, with the
enjoyment of his own skill, the soul’s sweetest food ;
that of the other was occupied with murders and
wrongs, with fear both by day and by night. Still
further, compare Democritus, Pythagoras, Anaxag-

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 291

oras, with the tyrant. What sceptres, what riches
will you prefer to their study and their joy? For
in that which is the chief part of man must neces-
sarily be situated the supreme good which you seek.
But what in man is better than a sagacious and
good mind? We must enjoy the good that is in the
mind, if we mean to be happy. But virtue is the
good of the mind; therefore a happy life must
necessarily be contained in it. Hence come all
things that are beautiful, right, excellent (as I have
already said, yet it seems fitting to say it a little
more at length), and they are full of joy. But since
it is clear that a happy life exists with full and un-
ceasing joy, it follows that it derives its existence
from the right.

24. But, not to confine myself to an abstract
statement, I would present certain principles in
action, in such a way as to increase our desire for
knowledge and understanding. Let us take then
some man who excels in the best arts, and let him
assume shape for a little while in mind and thought.
In the first place, he must needs be of surpassing
ability ; for virtue does not easily associate itself
with slow minds. Then too, he must have an active
zeal in the investigation of truth, whence will
spring a threefold product of the mind, first, in the
knowledge of things and the explanation of Nature;
secondly, in the definition of the things to be sought
or shunned; thirdly, in drawing positive or negative
conclusions from given premises, embracing at once

292 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

skilful reasoning and unerring judgment. What joy
must fill the mind of the wise man who dwells day
and night in these pursuits, when he has in clear view
the courses and revolutions of the whole universe,
and sees in harmonious movement with it the num-
berless stars studding the sky in unchanging order,
—the seven others, keeping each its own orbit,
widely differing in altitude, whose motions, though
wandering, yet mark out their determined and un-
varying paths in space! No wonder that the sight
of these celestial bodies stirred up and urged on
those men of old to research in other directions.
Hence sprang the investigation of the beginnings
and, so to speak, the seeds whence all things came
into being, were generated, were compounded, — of
the origin of every kind of being, inanimate or liv-
ing, voiceless or capable of utterance, — the inquiry
whence came the earth and by what weights bal-
anced, in what caverns it holds in the seas by
what gravitation all things borne down tend to the
centre of the universe, or — what is the same thing
— to the lowest attainable point in our globe.”

25. For the soul conversant with these things
and pondering upon them night and day there
emerges the knowledge prescribed by the god at

1 To prevent inundations.

2 Or, ‘tends to the centre of the world, which is also the low-
est (or inmost) sphere in the whole round universe.” For the
seven concentric spheres of which this earth is both the innermost
(intimus) and. the lowest (infimus), see Scipio’s Dream, § 4.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 293

Delphi, so that the mind knows itself, is conscious
of intimate union with the divine mind, and is thus
filled with insatiable! joy. For thought upon the
power and nature of the gods of itself kindles a
longing to be eternal as they are; nor can the soul
conceive of itself as confined within the shortness
of this earthly life, when it sees the causes of things
dependent on other causes, and bound in an inevi-
table series, which, flowing forever from a past eter-
nity, is nevertheless governed by reason and by
mind. As for him who looks into these things and
looks up to them, or rather looks around all their
divisions and boundaries, with what tranquillity of
soul does he contemplate all human and nearer con-
cerns! Hence springs the knowledge of virtue ; the
kinds and divisions of the virtues flower out from
the parent stock; it is ascertained what Nature re-
gards as the supreme good and the extreme of evil,
to what standard duties are to be referred, what
mode of conduct in life is to be chosen. Of these
and similar inquiries the most important result is
that which is the theme of our present discussion,
—the sufficiency of virtue in itself for a happy life.
A third? result follows, flowing and diffusing itself
through every part of wisdom,—the method and
science of reasoning, which defines things, distrib-
utes their kinds, connects consequences with their
antecedents, draws conclusions that are infallibly

1 Insatiable because eternal.
2 See the ‘threefold product of the mind,” in § 24.

294 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

true. Hence comes the surest practical sagacity for
determining the value of things, and therewith a
pleasure in the highest degree ingenuous and of
which wisdom need not be ashamed. But these
things belong to a restful life. Let this same wise
man pass to the charge of the public, interests.
What can excel him, when by his discretion he sees
that the well-being of the citizens remains unim-
paired, in his justice turns aside nothing from the
public service to his own behoof, and makes active
use of virtues so many and so various? Add to
this the fruit of his friendships, in which, as learned
men say, those thus united not only feel, but almost
breathe together as to their plans of life, while at
the same time they find the utmost delight in their
daily conversation and intercourse. What is there
lacking that could make this life happier? Fortune
herself must yield to a life full of so many and so
great joys. But if to rejoice in so many goods of
the soul, that is, in virtues, is happiness, and if all
wise men have thorough experience of these joys,
then it must of necessity be acknowledged that they
are all happy.

26. A. Even in torture and torment ?

M. Did you think that I meant to say, “Ona
bed of violets or of roses”? Shall Epicurus, who
only acted the philosopher, and assumed rather than
received that name, be suffered to say — and as the
case stands, I praise him for saying so — that there
is no time when the wise man, though burned, tor-

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 295

tured, mutilated, cannot exclaim, “Oh, how utterly
I disregard it!” while he admits no evil but pain,
no good but pleasure, derides our distinction of right
and wrong, and says that, busy with mere words, we
are uttering sounds without meaning, and that the
only thing that concerns us is what is smooth or
rough to the bodily sense? Shall he, whose judg-
ment in such matters differs little from that of the
brutes, be suffered to forget himself, and not only to
despise fortune when all his good and evil are in
the power of fortune, but to call himself happy in
the extremity of torture and torment, when he has
made pain not only the greatest, but the only evil ?
Nor.did he provide himself with the remedies that
enable one to bear pain, such as firmness of mind,
shame of anything mean, the exercise and habit of
endurance, precepts of fortitude, manly hardihood ;
but he says that he acquiesces in pain solely from
the recollection of past pleasures, as if one in heat
greater that he can easily sustain should call to
mind that he was once in my native Arpinum sur-
rounded by ice-cold streams. I do not see how past
pleasures can allay present evils; but when he who
in self-consistency has no right to say it, says that
the wise man is always happy, what should they do
who think that nothing ought to be sought, nothing
to be regarded as among goods, that is not right ?
In my opinion, indeed, even the Peripatetics and

1 Latin, me auctore, which might be rendered, “under my
leading.”

296 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

the old Academicians ought to cease stammering,
and to say openly and in a clear voice that a happy
life might pass down the maw of the bull of
Phalaris.

27. To leave the intricacies of the Stoics which
I am aware of having employed more than is my
wont, — let it be admitted that there are three
kinds of goods, let them all be recognized as such,
while the bodily and external kinds have their in-
ferior place and are called “good” because they are
comparatively preferable;! but let those divine
goods spread themselves far and wide and reach
to the sky. Why should we call him who has
attained them merely happy, and not the very hap-
piest of men? Shall a wise man fear pain? This
is in indeed the chief obstacle to my opinion ; for
by the discussions of previous days we seem to be
sufficiently armed and prepared against our own
death and that of our friends, and against grief and
other perturbations of mind. Pain seems to be the
most strenuous enemy to virtue. It menaces us
with burning torches. It threatens to impair cour-
age, magnanimity, patience. Shall virtue then suc-
cumb to it? Shall the happy life of a wise and
self-consistent man yield to it? O ye good gods,

1 Latin, swmenda, ‘to be taken [in preference].” Swmenda
is evidently a translation of the Greek rponyuéva, by which the
later Stoics denoted what they admitted to be a secondary order
of goods. As some bodily condition and some external posses-

sions and surroundings are inevitable, they admitted the right of
preference, and thus admitted things preferable as a class.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 297

how base! Spartan boys do not groan when their
bodies are torn by the agony of stripes. I myself
have seen at Lacedaemon flocks of youth contend-
ing with incredible earnestness, with fists, heels,
nails, and at length with teeth, and utterly ex-
hausted before they would admit that they were
conquered. What barbarous country is more rude
and savage than India? Yet among the people that
dwell there, in the first place, those who are es-
teemed wise live without clothing, bear without pain
the snows of Caucasus! and the severity of winter,
and when they come into contact with fire, they
suffer themselves to be burned without a groan.
The women in India, too, when the husband of any
of them dies, have a contest, and that before the
judges, to determine which of them he loved most
(for one man usually has several wives); and the
one that wins, followed by her kindred, joyfully
ascends the funeral pile with her husband, while
those who fail go away sad. Custom could never
conquer Nature, for she is always unconquered ;
but we infect our souls with darkness, luxury,
idleness, languor, sloth, and soften them by false
opinions and bad habits. Who does not know the
customs of the Aegyptians, who, imbued with errors
of the most debasing kind, will rather bear any
torture than hurt an ibis, or a cat, or a dog, or a

1 A name by which a chain of mountains near the western
boundary of India was frequently called, its more usual name
being Paropamisus.

298 Cicero’s Tuseulan Disputations.

crocodile; while if they do such a thing unwit-
tingly, they shrink from no punishment? I am
speaking of men. What of beasts? Do not they
endure cold, hunger, running when chased, or in
quest of food, over mountains and through forests ?
Do they not fight for their offspring till they are
wounded, fearing no assaults or blows? I say noth-
ing of what the ambitious suffer to obtain office,
those greedy of applause for the sake of fame, those
inflamed by love to gratify their desire. Life is full
of examples.

28. But our discussion must have its limits, and
it is time to return from my digression. I repeat it,
a happy life will submit to torture, nor, having fol-
lowed justice, temperance, and especially fortitude,
magnanimity, patience, can it cease to follow them!
when it sees the face of the torturer, and remain —
to resume a figure already used — outside of the
doors and threshold of the prison, while all the
virtues pass on undismayed to the place of torment.
For what could be more disgraceful, more unsightly
than a happy life left alone outside, separated from
its incomparably beautiful associates? This cannot

1 Latin, constet, i. e. *‘stand still.” This sentence, as a series
of mutually consistent and singularly appropriate metaphors, has
very great beauty. A happy life personified is represented as fol-
lowing (prosecuta) the virtues, as unable to stop short or stand
still (constet), on seeing the torturer’s face, and to remain standing
(resistet) outside of the prison gates; for what can look worse
than for her to be left alone (sola relicta), parted from the flock
(segregata) of her fair companions ?

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 299

possibly be. Nor can the virtues hold together
without a happy life, nor can a happy life retain its
entireness without the virtues. Therefore they will
not suffer it to turn its back. They will force it
along with them, to whatever pain and torment they
shall be dragged. For it is the property of the wise
man to do nothing of which he can repent, nothing
against his own will, but to do everything firmly,
soberly, rightly, — thus to regard no event as certain
to take place, to wonder at nothing that may have
happened as if it seemed to him unexpected and
new, to refer everything to his own judgment, to
abide by his own decisions. I certainly cannot
imagine any condition happier than this. The con-
clusion of the Stoics is indeed obvious. Regarding
it as the supreme good to livé agreeably to nature
and in accordance with it, and considering the wise
man as not only bound in duty, but also able to live
thus, they necessarily infer that the life of him who
has the supreme good within his power must be hap-
py- Therefore the wise man’s life is always happy.
You thus have what I think may be said concern-
ing a happy life with the strongest emphasis, and
as the question now stands, with absolute certainty,
unless you can bring forward something better.

29. A. I can indeed bring forward nothing bet-
ter; but one thing I would gladly beg of you, unless
it will give you too much trouble, since no bonds of
any particular school hinder you, and you extract?

1 Latin, libas, “‘sip,” as a bee sips nectar, fluttering from
flower to flower.

300 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

from each whatever strikes you as most probable.
As you a little while ago were disposed to advise
the Peripatetics and the disciples of the Old Acad-
emy to say freely without reserve that the wise are
always perfectly happy, I should like to hear how
you think that they can consistently say so; for
you have alleged a great deal against their opinion
on this subject, and have refuted it by the reason-
ing of the Stoics.

M. I will use then the liberty which we! alone
have the right to use in philosophy, as we determine
nothing, but discuss questions in all their bearings,
so that what we say may be judged by others on its
own merits, unsupported by any one’s authority.
Since you seem to desire that, whatever may be the
opinion of mutually dissenting philosophers con-
cerning the supreme good and the extreme of evil,
it should yet be maintained that virtue affords a
sufficient guaranty for a happy life, which we learn
that Carneades used to dispute, but he as against
the Stoics, whom he always opposed most zealously,
and against whose doctrines he was inflamed with
hostility, —I will treat the subject dispassionately.
If the Stoics were right in their view of the supreme
good, the question is settled, — the wise man must
of necessity be always happy. But let us examine
each of the remaining opinions, that this admirable
decree, if I may so term it, as to a happy life may
be found in harmony with the opinions and systems
of all.

1 We of the New Academy.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 301

30. The following, I think, are all the opinions
held and defended concerning the supreme good and
the corresponding extreme of evil. In the first place,
there are four simple opinions,—that there is no
good but the right, as the Stoics say; that there is
no good but pleasure, according to Epicurus; that
there is no good except freedom from pain, as is
the opinion of Hieronymus ;! that there is no good
except the enjoyment of the chief, or all, or the
greatest goods of nature, as Carneades maintained
against the Stoics. These are simple. The others
mingle different elements in the good. Thus the
Peripatetics, from whom those of the Old Academy
differ very little, recognize three classes of goods, —
the greatest, those of mind ; the second, those of the
body ; in the third rank, external goods. Dinoma-
chus and Calliphon? coupled pleasure with the right,
and Diodorus, the Peripatetic, annexed painlessness
to the right, as constituting the good. These are
opinions that may have some permanence; those
of Ariston, Pyrrho, Herillus* and some others, have
disappeared. Let us see what inferences can be
drawn from each of these opinions, omitting the
Stoics, whose ground I think that I have sufficiently
defended. I have also explained the position of the
Peripatetics. Except Theophrastus and any who
may have followed him in a too imbecile fear of

1 A disciple of Aristotle, yet not in full sympathy with the
Peripatetics.
2 See De Offciis, iii. § 33. 3 See De Offciis, i. § 2,

302 Cicere’s Tusculan Disputations.

pain, the rest are at liberty to do what they almost
always do, to express in superlative terms the
weight and worth of virtue, which when they have
extolled to the skies, it is easy in comparison to
vilify and despise everything else. Those who say
that worthy praise! is to be sought, though won
with pain, cannot deny that they who have won it
are happy; for though they may encounter some
evils, yet this word “happy” has a very wide
application.

31. For as commerce is called “ profitable,” and
agriculture “fruitful,” not merely when the former
is altogether free from loss, and the latter from dam-
age by bad weather, but when they are in far the
greater part prosperous, so life may be fitly called
“happy,” not only when it is entirely filled with
good things, but when goods very greatly prepon-
derate both in quantity and in importance. By the
reasoning of the Peripatetics then a happy life will
follow virtue to punishment, and will go down with
it into the bull of Phalaris, according to Aristotle,
Xenocrates, Speusippus and Polemon, nor will hap-
piness be induced by threats or by blandishments
to desert virtue. The same will be the opinion of
Calliphon and Diodorus, botn of whom take such
strong hold upon the right as to think that what-
ever lacks it should be placed in the distance and

1 Latin, laudem. I have inserted ‘‘ worthy,” because Jaus sel-
dom denotes unmerited praise, and here can mean nothing else
than praise which is won by deserving it.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 303

the background. The others seem to be in a nar-
rower strait, yet they swim clear,—I mean Epicu-
rus, Hieronymus, and those —if there are any—who _
care to defend the deserted Carneades; for there
is not one of them who does not regard the mind
as the judge of things good, and does not so train
the mind that it can despise seeming good and evil.
Now what seems to you the case of Epicurus will
be also that of Hieronymus and Carneades, and, by
Hercules, of all the rest; for who of them is insuffi-
ciently prepared against death or pain? I will
begin, if you please, with him whom we term effem-
inate, even a voluptuary. What? Does he seem
to you to fear death or pain, who calls the day of
his death happy, and when visited by the severest
pains, neutralizes them by the memory and recol-
lection of his own discoveries? And he treats these
subjects in such a way, that it does not seem like
idle talk from the impulse of the moment. For as
to death, he thinks that on the dissolution of the
animal life consciousness is extinguished, and main-
tains that nothing which lacks consciousness can
belong to us. As to pain, he has certain positions
to which he adheres, comforting it when great, by
its brevity, when long continued, by its lightness.
How far then as to these two things that give us
the greatest distress are those who make such loud
professions! in advance of Epicurus? For other
things which are thought to be evils, do not Epicu-
1 The Stoics.

304 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

rus and the rest of the philosophers seem suffi-
ciently prepared? How almost universal is the
dread of poverty! Yet no philosopher fears it.

32. With how little is this same Epicurus satis-
fied! No one has said more than he about simple
living. Indeed, when one is far removed from all
things that occasion a desire for money to be spent
for love, for ambition, for daily luxuries, why should
he have any great desire for money, or rather, why
should he care for it at all? Could the Scythian
Anacharsis! consider money as of no worth, and
should not our philosophers be able to do the like ?
His letter is as follows: “ Anacharsis to Hanno?
greeting. My clothing is the usual Scythian gar-
ment; my shoes, the hardened soles of my feet;
my condiment, hunger; my food, milk, cheese, flesh.
You may therefore come to me as to one at perfect
ease. But these presents with which you are so
much pleased I would have you give either to your
own citizens or to the immortal gods.” Almost all
philosophers of every school, except those whom a
vicious nature had turned aside from right reason,
would have been of the same mind with him. Soc-

1 A brother of the Scythian king, who travelled in pursuit of
knowledge, and in Athens was regarded with great interest both
for his simplicity of life and manners, and for his rare intelligence
and wisdom. Though he was not a Greek, his name appears on
some lists of the seven wise men of Greece. He was contemporary
with Solon.

2 A Carthaginian name, and Anacharsis very probably visited
Carthage.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 305

rates, when a great quantity of gold and silver was
carried in a procession, said, “How many things
there are which [ do not want!” Xenocrates, when
ambassadors from Alexander brought him fifty tal-
ents,} a very large sum in those times, especially at
Athens, took the ambassadors to sup with him in
the Academy, placing before them sufficient food,
without any parade. The next day, when they
asked him to whom he would have the money
paid, he said, “What? Did you not understand by
yesterday’s supper that I am in no need of money ?”
When he saw them somewhat sad, he accepted
thirty minae,? lest he might seem to despise the
king’s generosity. Diogenes as a Cynic took greater
liberty with Alexander when the king asked him if
he had need of anything, and replied, “I wish that
you would stand a little way out of the sun.” He had
forsooth stood in the way of the philosopher as he
was sunning himself. Diogenes used also to tell
how much he excelled the king of the Persians in
his mode of life and in fortune, saying that he
lacked nothing, while the king could never have
enough, —that he did not desire the king’s pleasures,
which were never sufficient to satisfy him ; while
the king could not possibly obtain his pleasures.

33. You are aware, I think, how Epicurus has di-
vided the desires into classes, not perhaps with much

1 A sum equivalent to about sixty thousand dollars.
2 About one hundredth part of what had been offered to him
the day before.
20

306 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

logical skill, but in a way practically useful. Desires
are, according to him, in part, natural and necessary ;
in part, natural and not necessary; in part, neither.
Those that are necessary can be satisfied almost
without cost; for the wealth of Nature is within
easy reach. As to the second class of desires, it is
not difficult either to satisfy them or to dispense
with them. The third class, because they are
essentially frivolous, and unrelated not only to
necessity, but also to nature, he would have entirely
thrown aside. On this entire subject there are
many details that are discussed among the Epicu-
reans, and pleasures of kinds which as a whole they
do not despise, are treated as individually of little
worth ; yet they demand such pleasures as may be
easily supplied. As to the lowest forms of sensual
pleasure, about which they have written a great
deal, they say that they are easy, common, acces-
sible ; that if Nature demands them, they are to be
measured not by race, position or rank, but by man-
ner, age, person; that abstinence from them is by
no means difficult, if required by either health,
duty or reputation ; that on the whole this kind of
pleasure may be desirable, but can never be of any
use. Concerning pleasure in general, the maxims
of Epicurus show that he regards pleasure in itself,
because it is pleasure, as always to be desired and
sought, and for the same reason pain in itself, be-
cause it is pain, is always to be avoided. The wise
man, therefore, will employ such balances as to

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 307

shun pleasure if it will produce more than its own
amount of pain, and will incur pain if it will pro-
duce more than its own amount of pleasure. All
pleasures, according to him, though judged as such
by the bodily sense, are yet referred to the mind,
since the body enjoys only so long as it feels the
present pleasure, while the mind perceives the
present pleasure equally with the body, and at
the same time looks forward to pleasure in the
future, and does not suffer the past to flow by.
Thus the wise man will always have perpetual
and continuous pleasures, while the expectation of
pleasures hoped for is united to the remembrance of
those that are past.?

34, These philosophers apply like principles to
food, and accordingly the magnificence and sump-
tuousness of feasts are held in no esteem, because
Nature is satisfied with frugal ways of living. For
who does not see that all kinds of food are seasoned
by the need of them? Darius in his flight, having
drunk muddy water fouled by carcasses that had been

1 This is sound philosophy, though from Epicurus, and it ap-
plies to pain no less than to pleasure. In suffering of every kind,
memory of what has been borne and anticipation of what must
yet be endured form a very large proportion of the conscious
affliction or burden. From all this young children are exempt ;
so too, in a considerable degree, are those whose minds feel the
benumbing influence of advanced age ; so too, in all probability,
are the inferior animals. Thus pain and sorrow fall with full
force only on those for whom suffering is or ought to be a whole-
some moral discipline.

308 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

thrown into it, said that he had never drunk any-
thing more pleasant to the taste, the fact being that
he had never before drunk to satisfy actual thirst.
Nor had Ptolemy ever eaten to satisfy hunger, till,
when he was travelling over his kingdom in advance
of his attendants, some coarse bread was given him
in a hut, and nothing ever seemed to him of sweeter
taste than that bread. It is said that Socrates, hav-
ing walked at a great pace till evening, when asked
why he was doing so, replied that he was sharpen-
ing his appetite so as to sup the better. Do we not
know what was the food of the Lacedaemonians at
their public table? When Dionysius the tyrant
supped there, he said that he did not like that black
soup which was the chief dish on the table. Then
he who made the soup said, “No wonder; for you
took it without seasoning.” “What seasoning do
you mean?” asked the tyrant. The reply was,
“Labor in hunting, perspiration, ranning from the
Eurotas, hunger, thirst; for these are the seasonings
of Lacedaemonian banquets.” Moreover, this same
lesson may be learned not only from human cus-
toms, but equally from beasts that are satisfied with
whatever is thrown to them, if it be not repugnant
to their nature, and want nothing better. Certain
entire states, taught by custom, rejoice in frugal
habits, as was the case with the Lacedaemonians of
whom I have just spoken. Xenophon gives an
account of the living of the Persians, who, he says,
use for their bread no seasoning but cresses. Yet,

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 309

if Nature demands anything sweeter, how many
things there are that spring from the earth or grow
on trees that are equally abundant and delicious!
Consider also the freedom from gross humors! and
the sound health consequent on this abstemiousness
in food. Compare with men of simple diet those
whom you may see perspiring, belching, overloaded
with food like fat oxen, and you will understand
that they who most follow pleasure obtain the least
of it, and that the enjoyment of eating consists in
appetite, not in satiety.

35. It is related, that Timotheus, an eminent
Athenian, indeed the chief man in the city,? having
supped with Plato, and having been very much
pleased with the entertainment, when he saw his
host the next day, said, “ Your suppers are pleasant
not only while they last, but also on the following
day.” What? Can we use our minds aright when
we are filled with an excess of food and drink ?
There is extant an admirable letter of Plato to
Dion’s friends, in which, as nearly as I can trans-
late it, are these words: “When I came thither
the life which was esteemed happy, crowded with
Italian and Syracusan entertainments, was far from
giving me pleasure. To be forced to eat largely

1 Latin, siccitatem.

2 Timotheus, as a naval commander, restored the supremacy

and fame of Athens by sea, He was at the same time a patron of
men of letters, and erected a bronze statue of Isocrates, See De

Offictis, i. § 32.
3 To Syracuse, during Dion’s exile.

310 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

twice a day, never to have a night to one’s self, and
other things attendant on this mode of life, would
be enough to prevent any one from becoming wise,
much more, from being temperate. For what nature
can be so marvellously constituted as to bear this?”
How then can there be pleasure in a life in which
there is neither prudence nor temperance? We
may hence ascertain the mistake of Sardanapalus,
the enormously rich king of Syria, in ordering these
verses to be engraved on his funeral urn, —
‘** What I have eaten and enjoyed I have ;
But much that’s excellent I leave behind me.”

What else, says Aristotle, could you inscribe on the
tomb of an ox, not to say, of a king? He says
that, when dead, he has things which, when living,
he had only while he was enjoying them. Why
then are riches desired? Or wherein does poverty
preclude happiness? I suppose, in the matter of
statues, pictures, amusements. If one delights in
these, do not men of slender means enjoy them
better than those who have them in,abundance ?
For there is in our city a great supply of all these
things for the public benefit. The private citizens
who have works, of art do not see so many, and
they see their own seldom, and only when they go
to their country seats ; and there must also be some
prickings of conscience when they remember whence
they obtained them! The day would close upon

1 They were stolen, sometimes and less guiltily in the sacking
of conquered cities, often, I am inclined to think oftener, by the

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. — 311

me, were I to undertake to plead the cause of pov-
erty. The case, however, is a plain one, and Na-
ture every day reminds us how few and cheap are
her needs.

36. Now, shall low rank, or humble condition, or
unpopularity prevent a wise man from being happy?
Consider whether the conciliating of the people’s
favor and the fame thus sought do not involve
more trouble than pleasure. Our favorite orator
Demosthenes certainly appears very small when he
professed to be delighted in hearing a woman carry-
ing water (as women are wont to do in Greece)
whispering to another woman, “This is that Demos-
thenes.” What could be weaker than this? Yet
how great he was as an orator! He had, forsooth,
learned to speak to others, not much with himself.
It must then be understood that popular fame is
not to be sought for its own sake, and that low rank
is not to be dreaded. “I came to Athens,” said
Democritus, “and no one knew me,” — the words
of a firm and brave man, who glories in his remote-
ness from glory. Do players on the flute and on
stringed instruments modulate their notes and num-
bers, not by the judgment of the people, but by

extortion and even undisguised theft of officials in the provinces,
as of Verres in Sicily. Rome was exceedingly rich in works of
art, long before she had a sculptor or painter of her own whose
works possessed any merit.

1 Yet Cicero himself was greatly dependent, not indeed on the
vicious or low pleasures, but on the appliances of art, taste, and
sober luxury, which wealth alone could furnish.

312 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

their own; and shall the wise man, skilled in an
art of much higher order, seek not what is most
nearly conformed to the truth, but what the people
crave? Is anything more foolish than to make
great account. in the mass of those whom individ-
ually you scorn as mere laborers and persons of no
culture? The wise man will despise our ambitions
and frivolities, and reject honors from the people,
though offered spontaneously; while we do not know
how to despise them till we begin to find reason for
regretting them. Heraclitus, the physicist, in writ-
ing about Hermodorus,! the chief man among the
Ephesians, says that all the Ephesians deserved capi-
tal punishment for expelling Hermodorus from their
city, giving as their reason, “ We will not have any
one of us better than the rest; if there be such a
man, let him be in another place and among other
people.” Is not something like this the case with
every people? Do they not hate all pre-eminence
of virtue? What? Was not Aristides (for I would
rather cite examples from among the Greeks than
among our own people) expelled from his country
because he was righteous beyond measure? From
how many troubles are they free, who have nothing
at all to do with the people! What, indeed, is more
delightful than learned leisure? I refer to that

1 He is said to have come to Rome to aid the decemvirs in
framing the laws of the Twelve Tables, —a tradition confirmed
by the undoubted fact that there was a statue of him in the
Comitium.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness, 313

learning by which we become conversant with the
immensity of the universe and of Nature, and in
this world of ours with sky, lands and seas.

37. Honor despised, money also despised, what
remains to be feared? Exile, I suppose, which is
regarded as among the greatest evils. If this (so-
called) evil comes from the adverse and hostile dis-
position of the people, I have just said how much
it is to be despised. But if absence from one’s
country is misery, the provinces are thronged with
miserable people, very few of whom return to their
country. But exiles have their goods confiscated.
What of that? Is not a great deal said about
bearing poverty? Then if we look into the thing
itself, and not into the disgrace of the name, what
is the difference between exile and perpetual trav-
elling in foreign countries, in which philosophers
of the highest rank have passed their lives? This
was the case with Xenocrates, Crantor, Arcesilas,
Lacydes, Aristotle, Theophrastus, Zeno, Cleanthes,
Chrysippus, Antipater, Carneades, Panaetius, Cli-
tomachus, Philo, Antiochus, Posidonius, and others
more than I can number, who, after having once
left home, never returned. If exile, then, be with-
out merited disgrace, should it affect the wise man ?
For all that I have to say is about the wise man, to
whom this cannot rightfully happen. There is no
fitness in offering consolation to one whose exile is
deserved. In the last place, the case of those who
refer the objects which they pursue in life to the

314 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

standard of pleasure presents no difficulty, since
wherever these objects can be supplied, they can
live happily. Thus to every case Teucer’s words
are applicable : —

‘* Where it is well with me, there is my country.” 1

When Socrates was asked to name his city, he said,
“The world ;” for he regarded himself as an inhab-
itant and citizen of the whole world. What shall
we say of Titus Albucius?2 Did not he with the
utmost equanimity pursue the study of philosophy
in Athens? to whom, nevertheless, this would not
have happened, if he had obeyed the precepts of
Epicurus and taken no interest in public affairs.
How much happier was Epicurus for living at home
than Metrodorus*® who also lived in Athens? Was

1 A verse from the Teucer of Pacuvius. The story (myth it
may be) of Teucer’s banishment by his father from Salamis in Crete
(whence he went to found Salamis in Cyprus), is referred to by
Horace (i. 7), who makes Teucer say :—

** Quo nos cumque feret melior Fortuna parente,
Ibimus, 0 socii comitesque.
Nil desperandum Teucro duce et auspice Teucro.”

2 He was accused of extortion as praetor in Sardinia, con-
demned, for aught that appears to the contrary, justly, and closed
his days as an adept in the Epicurean philosophy at Athens. He
seems to have been at best a light-headed man, and *Cicero here
probably does not mean to express approval of his character, but
simply to refer to the unconcern with which he was well known
to have borne his exile.

8 They both lived in Athens. Epicurus was born there, and
so was Metrodorus, according to some authorities ; according to

Virtue sufficient for Happiness, 315

Plato happier than Xenocrates,! or Polemon than Ar-
cesilas?2 Then again, in what esteem should a city
be held, from which.good and wise men are driven ?
Demaratus indeed, the father of our King Tarquin?
because he could not bear the tyrant Cypselus, fled
from Corinth to Tarquinii, established himself there,
and had children born there. Was he foolish in
preferring freedom in exile to slavery at home ?

38. All emotions of the mind, anxieties, griefs,
are allayed by being forgotten, when the thoughts
are drawn over in the direction of pleasure. There-
fore it was not without reason that Epicurus used
to say that the wise man is always in the enjoy-
ment of good things, because he is always in the
enjoyment of pleasure. Hence he thinks that it is
proved, in accordance with the result of our present
inquiry, that the wise man is always happy. Is he
so, you ask, if he lacks the sense of sight or of hear-
ing? Yes; for he holds these in mean esteem. In
the first place, what pleasures are wanting to that
blindness which is so much dreaded? since some
maintain that, while other pleasures have their seat
in the senses themselves, the things that are per-
ceived by the sight are not confined to pleasant
sensations of the eyes,—that the things which we
others, followed undoubtedly, by Cicero, he was born at Lampsa-
cus, a Greek colony in Mysia.

1 Who was a native of Chalcedon, and lived many years in

Athens.
2 Who was born in Aeolis, and lived in Athens.
8 Tarquinius Priscus.

316 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

taste, smell, touch, hear, are concerned only with
the part of the body with which we perceive them,
but that with the eyes it is not so, the mind re-
ceiving directly what we see. But the mind may
receive pleasure in many various ways, even if sight
be not employed. I am speaking of the educated
and learned man, to whom to think is to live. Now
the thought of the wise man does not usually em-
ploy the aid of the eyes in investigation. More-
over, if night does not deprive life of happiness,
why should day that is like night have that effect ?
Antipater, the Cyrenaic philosopher, replied some-
what coarsely, yet not without large signification,
to some women who condoled with him on his
blindness, “ What are you saying? Do you think
the night void of pleasure?” As for that old Ap-
pius Claudius, who was blind for many years, we
learn both from the magistracies that he filled and
from what he accomplished that in this calamity of
his he was deficient in no duty or office private or
public. We have heard that the house of Caius
Drusus used to be filled with clients. When those
whose business was in hand could not see their own
way, they employed a blind guide.’ When I was a
boy, blind Gneius Aufidius, who had been praetor,
used to give his opinion in the Senate, and never
failed his friends when they needed his counsel, and
at the same time wrote a history in Greek,? and in
literature was a seeing man.

1 See De Senectute, §§ 6,11. 2 A history of Rome in Greek.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 317

39. Diodotus, the Stoic, lived for many years in
my house. What would seem almost incredible,
while he cultivated philosophy much more assid-
uously than before his blindness, and played on the
lyre as was the custom of the Pythagoreans, and had
books read to him by night and day, in which pur-
suits he did not absolutely need eyes; he also—
what seems hardly possible without eyes — dis-
charged the office of a teacher of geometry, giving
verbal directions to his pupils where every line in
their diagrams should begin and end. It is said
that Asclepiades, of Eretria, a philosopher of some
celebrity, when he was asked what had befallen to
him in consequence of his blindness, replied, “ The
need of the attendance of one more servant.” As
extreme poverty, if necessary, may be borne, as not
a few in Greece have to bear it constantly, so blind-
ness can be easily endured, if the support of good
health be not wanting. Democritus, when he lost
the use of his eyes, could not discriminate between
white and black. But he could discriminate be-
tween things good and evil, fair and unfair, right
and wrong, great and small, and without knowing
differences of color he was able to live happily,
though he could not have so lived without the
knowledge of things as they really are. This man,
indeed, thought that the mental vision was made

1 Diodotus, before his blindness, was Cicero’s teacher, espe-
cially in logic. He died in Cicero's house, and left Cicero his
heir.

318 Cicero's Tusculan Disputations.

less clear by eyesight, and when others often did
not see what was before their feet, he travelled
through all infinity so that he never reached a
limit. The tradition is that Homer was blind. But
we see in him not poetry, so much as _ pictures.
What region, what coast, what place in Greece, what
kind and mode of warfare, what movement of men
or of beasts, is not so painted as to make us see
what he himself could not have seen? What then ?
Can we think that delight and pleasure of mind were
wanting to Homer, or that they are ever wanting to
any well-instructed man? If they could be, would
Anaxagoras, or this very Democritus, have left his
native soil and his patrimony, and devoted himself
with his whole soul to the divine delight of learning
and investigation? Thus also the poets, who rep-
resent the augur Tiresias as a wise man, never in-
troduce him as deploring his blindness. Homer,
too, having made Polyphemus savage and beastly,
introduces him, in talking with his ram, as con-
gratulating himself on his good fortune, because he
could go wherever he pleased and reach whatever
he wanted! He was in the right; for the Cyclops
had no more sense than that ram had.

40. In the next place, what evil is there in deaf-
ness? Marcus Crassus was somewhat deaf ; but he
was more annoyed by knowing that he was spoken

1 This conversation with the ram has nothing corresponding to
it in the Odyssey. It was probably in some epic or tragedy now
lost, and was by a lapse of memory credited to Homer.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 319

ill of, though, as I thought, unjustly! Our Epicu-
reans are, almost all of them, ignorant of Greek, as
the Greeks of the same school are of Latin ; there-
fore those of each tongue are deaf in the other, and
all of us are certainly deaf in the innumerable lan-
guages which we do not understand. But, it is said,
the deaf cannot hear the voice? of the harp-player.
Nor do they hear the grating of the saw when it
is sharpened, or the shrieks of the pig when he is
killed, or the noise of the murmuring sea when they
want repose. Moreover, if it so be that they delight
in songs, they ought to reflect, in the first place,
that many wise men lived happily before rhythmi-
cal strains were invented, and then, that much
greater pleasure may be derived from reading poetry
than from hearing it sung. Then too, as I just now
commended the blind to the pleasure of hearing, so
I may equally commend the deaf to the pleasure of
seeing. It must be remembered also that he who can
talk with himself has no need of another’s conver-
sation. Suppose, however, that all misfortunes are
heaped together upon one man, —that he has the use
neither of eyes nor of ears, and is at the same time

1 Cicero, we cannot doubt, here refers to the unlawfully ambi-
tious views imputed to Crassus on account of his connection in
the triumvirate with Caesar and Pompey, — charges of which he
was probably innocent. Cicero was certainly never his friend, and
in De Offciis (iii. § 18) he tells a story of him indicative of his
dishonesty and his well-known greed of money.

2 The harp was generally played as an accompaniment to the
human voice.

320 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

afflicted with the severest bodily pains. In the first
place, these accumulated infirmities of themselves
generally put an end toa man’s life; but if they
chance to be prolonged, and inflict more torment than
there is reason for one’s bearing, why, ye good gods,
should we hesitate ? There is a port at hand; for
death is an eternal refuge where there is no more
consciousness. Theodorus said to Lysimachus, who
threatened him with death, “You have indeed done
something great, if you have acquired the power of
a Spanish fly.”? When Perseus begged Paullus not
to lead him in triumph, he replied, “The matter is
entirely within your own power.” Much was said
about death on the first day, when death was the
subject, not a little on the second day, when pain
was under discussion ; and whoever bears in mind
what was said will be in no danger of not thinking
that death is either to be desired, or certainly not to
be dreaded.

41, I would indeed apply to the preservation of
life the rule that prevails at the festive entertain-
ments of the Greeks: “Let the guest either drink
or go.” This is as it ought to be. It is fitting for
one either to enjoy equally with the rest the pleas-
ure of drinking, or else to depart before he is ex-
posed to the violence of those who drink to excess.

1 Cantharides were not only used, as now, for remedial pur-
poses, but by some process well known to the practitioners of the
not uncommon art of poisoning, a deadly poison was extracted
from them.

Virtue sufficient for Happiness. 321

In like manner, you should leave by flight the-
wrongs of fortune which you cannot bear. These
same things which Epicurus says, Hieronymus re-
peats in as many words. But if those philosophers
whose opinion it is that virtue has no validity of its
own, and who say that all which we call right and
praiseworthy is void, and is dressed up with empty
words, nevertheless think that the wise man is
always happy, what ground ought to be taken by
philosophers who are in the line of descent from
Socrates and Plato, some of whom maintain that
the goods of the mind are of such surpassing ex-
cellence as utterly to eclipse those of the body and
of the outside world, while the others do not deem
these last as in any sense goods, but confine that
name to what the mind possesses ? The controversy
between these schools Carneades, as an honorary
umpire, used to settle in his own way. Inasmuch
as whatever things the Peripatetics called goods
were regarded as conveniences by the Stoics, nor
yet did the Peripatetics attach more value than the
Stoics to riches, good health and other things of the
same kind, and since these matters ought to be
weighed by reality, not by words, he maintained
that there was no reason for their disagreeing.
Therefore I will leave it for philosophers of other
schools to show how they establish the principle
for which I have been contending ; while it is a
source of pleasure to me that something worthy of
being said by philosophers is professed by them
21

322 Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations.

concerning the capacity of always living well that
belongs to the wise.

Since we must go to-morrow morning, let us keep
in memory the discussions of these five days. In-
deed I think that I shall write them out; for in
what way can I better employ this leisure such as
itis? I will send these five additional books! to
my friend Brutus, by whom I have been not only
urged, but importuned to write on philosophy; in
doing which I cannot easily say of how much
benefit I may be to others, but I certainly could
else have found no relief for my intensely bitter
and various griefs and for the causes of annoyance
that beset me on every side.

1 The five books De Finibus had already been dedicated to
Brutus.

INDEX.

Acapemy, the New, refraining from positive affirma-
tion, 271.
Anacharsis the Scythian, simple living of, 304.
Anger, accounted as useful by the Peripatetics, 226.
absurdly so regarded, 227.
harmful, even when it seems justified, 228.
worthless in an orator, 231.
equivalent to madness, 245.
Antonius, Marcus, 127 n.
Aquinius, a worthless poet, satirized by Catullus, 288 n.
Archimedes, tomb of, discovered by Cicero, 289.
Aristotle, fifth element of, constituting the soul, 17.
Avernus, 28 n.

Blindness, no bar to happiness, 315.
illustrious instances of, that have been bravely
borne, 316.
Brutus, Lucius Junius, the Twusculan Disputations in-
scribed to, xxii.
family of, 196.

Cicero, circumstances of, when this book was written, xiii.
altered aims of, xv.
Consolatio, Cicero’s, when and why written, xiv.
quoted, 27.
referred to, 55, 60, 189.
Courage, in bearing pain, examples of, 124.

324 Index.

Courage, how to be acquired, 125.
lack of, disgraceful in a man, 127.
defined, 229.
Cyrenaics, theory of the, as regards grief, 157, 172.
refuted, 158, 175.

Damocles, story of, 286.
Horace’s verses concerning, 287 n.
Damon and Phintias, story of, 288.
Deafness, not fatal to happiness, 318.
Death, not miserable if it be the extinction of being, 9.
often saving one from evil, 61.
attended by no sensation of want, 63.
instances of boldly incurring, 65.
naturalness of, 67.
unconsciousness of suffering or indignity in, 77.
how to be met cheerfully, 80.
in full prosperity desirable, 81.
instances of the conferment of, as a good gift of the
gods, 83.
desirable whatever its issue, 87.
Democritus, theory of, concerning the soul, 32, 60.
Desire, inordinate, the several forms of, 208.
under the classification of Epicurus, 305.
Dicaearchus, theory of, concerning the soul, 16, 18, 56.
Diodotus, long blind, yet none the less happy, busy, and
useful, 317.
Diogenes, contempt of, for death, 77.
Dionysius, misery of, 285.
compared with Archimedes, 289.
Diseases of the mind, curable, 136.
cherished by education and by the
poets, 137.
cherished also by popular opinion, 138.
more numerous and harmful than
those of the body, 139.

Index. 325

Diseases of the mind, akin to insanity, 141.
how produced, 209.
ultimate sources of, 210.
different proclivities to, 212.
less easily eradicated than those of
the body, 217.
transient discriminated from chronic,
248.
Divine element, in all that is great in man, 47.
discerned, as God himself is discerned, 51.

Eleusinian mysteries, 22 n.
Emulation of a vicious type, never serviceable, 232.
Ephemera, 69 n.
Epicharmus, 12 n.
Epicurus, inconsistency of, as regards pain, 99, 118.
remedy of, for grief, 162.
subjected to a reductio ad absurdum, 166.
pleasure as defined by, 169.
ground of Cicero’s opposition to, 171.
provides insufficiently for happiness, 295.
yet maintains that virtue must create happiness,
303.
the advocate of simple modes of living, 304.
Erasmus, extract from the preface of, to the Tusculan Dis-
putations, xxi.
Euphorion, 168 n.
Excluded middle, law of, 11.
Exile, no evil, 313.

Fear, the several forms of, 207.
wrongly accounted as useful by the Peripatetics, 225.
defined, 238.

Frugal living, in accordance with nature, 307.

Gladiators, hardy endurance of, 118.
Good, the supreme, according to the Stoics, 300.

326

Index,

Good, the supreme, the several opinions concerning, 301.
Grief, incompatible with courage, 146.

with the virtues comprehended under the term fru-
galitas, 148.

unbefitting for a wise man, 150.

as regarded by the Stoics, 152.

a matter of opinion, 153.

often shameless, 156.

caused, according to the Cyrenaics, by the sudden-
ness of its occasion, 157.

really not caused, but enhanced, by suddenness, 158.

sometimes the more severe, because its cause is fore-
seen, 160.

viewed in the light of the several virtues, 162.

not relieved by the pleasures of sense, 168.

examples of fortitude in, 176.

relieved by contemplation of its necessity, 178.

enhanced by the feeling that it ought to be cher-
ished, 179.

capable of being omitted or postponed, 181.

therefore unnecessary, 182.

reasons for assuming, 184.

removed by time, though its cause remains, 187.

means of consolation for, 189.

modes of consoling, differing with occasion and
person, 191.

special forms of, treated separately by the Greek
philosophers, 192.

the several forms of, 206.

effect of example in the endurance of, 237.

Gymnasium, the Greek, a nurse of licentiousness, 242.

Happiness, made imperfect by the existence of any evil,

265.
not,contingent on fortune, 267.
contingent solely on virtue, 269.

Index. 327

Happiness, stability essential to, 275.
belongs always to the wise man, 277.
to be gloried in, 281.
requisites to, 291.
compelled to keep company with virtue, even
in torment, 299.
Hercules, lamentation of, from the Trachiniae, 101.
appeal for vengeance to his son, 102.
Heredity, asserted by Panaetius, 57.
denied by Cicero, 58.
Honor, the sentiment of, an inspirer of courage, 182.
Hyrcanian dogs, 79 n.

Immortality of the soul, believed by the ancients, 20.
taught in the Eleusinian mys-
teries, 22.
implied in what men do for times
beyond their own, 24.
implied in the desire for posthu-
mous fame, 25.
Imperfection of mind, how related to disease, 213.
Insanity, as distinguished from madness, 143.

Juventas, another name for Hebe, 47 n.
* Know thyself,” meaning of the precept, 39.

Labor and pain, wherein alike, and wherein differing, 110.
Laelius, Caius, compared with Cinna, as to happiness, 283.
Lanman, Professor C. R., letter of, on Sanskrit par-
ticles, xxiii.

Life, long or short, only in comparison, 69.
Love, as a passion, shameful, 241.

Platonic, unreal and absurd, 243.

cure of, 244.

328 Index.

Melancholy, 143 n.
Memory, as restoring what was known in a previous state
of being, 42.
remarkable instances of, 43.
proving the soul’s immortality, 45.
Military service, as a discipline for hardy endurance, 112.
More, Henry, stanzas of, on the life of the unembodied
soul, 36 n.

Naevius, named as among the earliest Latin poets, 2.
quoted, 240.
Numa, why regarded as a Pythagorean, 196.

Oracles of the dead, 85 n.
Oratory, early proficiency of the Romans in, 4.

Pain, preferable to moral evil, 97, 108.
not so regarded by many of the early philosophers, 98.
how treated by Epicurus, 99.
the capacity of bearing, how cultivated, 132.
indifference to, undesirable, 145.
no hindrance to virtue or to happiness, 296.
Panaetius, reasons of, for denying the soul’s immortality, 57.
Ild6os, meaning of, 140 n.
Peripatetics, the, virtually in harmony with the Stoics as
to happiness, 321.
Perturbations of mind, classified, 154.
the wise man not liable to, 200.
defined by Zeno, 202.
the result of false opinion, 204.
baseness of subjection to, 218.
remedy for, 219.
not to be temporized with, 222.
not serviceable, as the Peripatetics
account them, 223.

Index. 329

Perturbations of mind, false reasoning of the Peripatetics
with regard to, 225.
different modes of curative treat-
ment of, 233.
how to be made impossible, 235.
voluntary, and therefore needless,
239.
exclude happiness, 260.
Philosophy, cultivated in Greece earlier than in Rome, 1,
91, 198.
poorly represented by early Epicurean writers
in Rome, 93.
appropriate work of, 95.
the true culture of the soul, 96.
the sole and sufficient cure for perturbations of
mind, 249.
apostrophized as the supreme guide and joy of
human life, 253.
older in essence than in name, 254.
when, where, and how named, 255.
promises of, to man, 263.
Pity, as regarded by the Stoics, 151 n.
Plato, authority of, as to the immortality of the soul, 37.
the Phaedo of, quoted, as to the soul’s past and future
eternity, 38.
Pleasure, the several forms of, 208.
Poetry, of late origin in Rome, 2.
cherishing effeminacy as to the endurance of pain, 105.
Popularity, not essential to happiness, 31.
Posidonius, fortitude of, in suffering, 130.
Prometheus, lamentation of, from Aeschylus, 102.
Pythagoras, establishment of, in Magna Graecia, 196.
vestiges in Rome of the philosophy of, 197.
inventor of the name of ‘‘ Philosophy,’’ 255.

Quackery of the Epicureans as to the cure of grief, 166, 168.

330 Index.
Reputation, not to be reckoned among goods, 279.

Sardanapalus, brutish luxury of, 310.
Sense, the organs of, not means, but avenues of percep-
tion, 35.
Socrates, teaching of, as to the soul’s nature, 52.
as to its destiny, 53.
dying words of, 71.
mode of reasoning of, 73.
the founder of the philosophy of life and morals,
257.
on happiness, in the Gorgias, 272.
Soul, theories concerning the, 15.
destiny of the, after death, 30.
final home of the, 33.
division of the, into two parts, one with, one without
reason, 121, 202.
Spartans, readiness of the, to meet death, 75.
Specialists, in need of large general culture, 89 and n.
Stoics, doctrine of the, as to pain, 106, 117.

Theramenes, death of, 70.
Cvpwors, used by Cicero, but found in no extant Greek
author, 208 n.
Tusculan Disputations, when written, xiii.
unity of, xvi.
outline of the several books of, xvi-xx.
method of, 6.

Under-world, fictions concerning the, 7.
imagined continuity of life in the, 27.

Virtue, one and indivisible, 109.
personified as exhorting to the brave endurance of
pain, 120.
sole cure of mental disease, 218.

Index. 331

Virtue, supreme over human fortunes, 252.
cannot under any circumstances exclude happi-
ness, 259.
identical with absolute reason, 275.

Wealth, not to be reckoned among goods, 279.
not essential to happiness, 310.
Wisdom, scope and fruits of, 293.

Xenocrates, regarding virtue as the source of perfect happi-
ness, 282.

Xenophon, the simple living of the Persians described
by, 308.

Youth, the goddess of, 47.

Zeno, perturbations of mind defined by, 202.

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